486F 


LELE    AND    HER    FATHER 


The   Man  with  the  Hoe. 


A   Picture 

of   American    Farm   Life 
As    It    Is    To-day. 


By  ADAM    BLAKE. 


"Noble  deeds  are  held  in  honor, 

But  the  wide  world  needs 
Hearts  of  patience  to  unravel 

This, — the  worth  of  common  deeds." 

— E.  C.  STEDMAN. 


CINCINNATI: 

THE    ROBERT    CLARKE    COMPANY. 
J904. 


iCopyright,  1903. 
THE  ROBERT  CLARKE  Co. 


PRESS   OF  THE   ROBERT   CLARKE   CO. 
CINCINNATI,  V.   S.   A. 


To  THE 
TOILING  FARMERS  OF  AMERICA, 

AND  THEIR 

BUSY  WIVES  AND  SONS  AND  DAUGHTERS, 

THIS  BOOK  is  DEDICATED 

BY  THE  AUTHOR. 


2134187 


INTRODUCTION. 


In  reprinting  this  story  of  farm  life,  a  few  pre- 
liminary remarks  become  necessary. 

First,  as  to  the  title :  "  The  Man  with  the  Hoe  " 
was  written  and  had  appeared  in  The  Ohio  Farmer  as 
a  serial  before  Edwin  Markham's  poem,  by  the  same 
title,  flamed  meteor-like  above  the  literary  horizon. 
There  is  natural  hesitation  in  offering  to  the  public  a 
book  under  a  title  which  is  linked  with  another's  world- 
wide fame,  and  but  for  a  fact  which  shall  be  alluded 
to  later,  the  author  would  gladly  exchange  it  for  one 
less  liable  to  invite  "  invidious  comparisons."  The 
damage  to  the  poet  will,  of  course,  be  slight.  The 
chief  danger  to  the  writer  of  the  present  volume  will 
be  that  purchasers,  when  ordering,  will  forget  to  specify 
the  author,  and  upon  receiving  a  copy  of  Edwin  Mark- 
ham's  poem,  will  find  that  they  have  their  money's 
worth,  and  fail  to  have  it  exchanged  for  the  story  — 
on  the  principle  that  "  it  is  never  safe  to  give  up  cer- 
tainties for  uncertainties,"  -  —  resulting  in  a  decrease  of 
sales  for  the  undersigned. 

So,  in  ordering  "  The  Man  with  the  Hoe,"  if  you 
wish  to  get  the  story,  be  sure  to  add:  "By  Adam 
Blake." 

Second,  as  to  the  story :  Eight  years  ago  I  thought 

(v) 


VI  INTRODUCTION. 

I  had  shown  you  "  The  Man  with  the  Hoe  "  full  grown. 
I  was  mistaken.  He  was  then  little  more  than  a  child. 
He  has  grown  since.  I  think  you  will  find  him  so 
much  improved  that  you  will  not  much  care  if  you  lose 
sight  of  him  as  he  was.  In  short,  you  are  not  receiving 
a  mere  reprint  of  the  story  you  read  a  while  ago. 
Years  have  been  spent  in  its  revision.  The  work  has 
been  the  chief  pleasure  and  recreation  of  a  very  busy 
and  often  very  tired  person,  who  had  little  time  to 
write,  and  has,  in  fact,  written  very  little ;  one  who  has 
seen  the  crops  fail,  and  the  grass  wither,  and  the  ponds 
go  dry,  and  the  young  fruit-trees  go  down  under  the 
relentless  sweep  of  summer  tempests ;  who  has  become 
acquainted,  agriculturally,  with  every  bug  that  bites, 
and  every  worm  that  crawls,  and  every  winged  and 
four-footed  pest  that  makes  the  discouraged  tiller  of 
the  soil  exclaim,  "  What  next?" 

A  settled  conviction  has  come  to  this  individual  that 
the  farmer  ought  to  have  a  book  of  his  very  own,  and 
that  the  title  of  that  book  could  only  be  "The  Man 
with  the  Hoe."  The  serial  under  this  title  had  appealed 
to  farmers.  Many  of  them  had  asked  for  it  in  book 
form.  The  author  felt  that  they  ought  to  be  gratified. 
So  here,  after  long  delay,  is  the  book. 

Much  has  been  added  to  the  original  story;  much 
omitted.  Here,  more  than  in  the  serial,  a  deter- 
mined effort  has  been  made  to  mirror  the  lives  of  those 
who  wield  the  hoe  —  the  peculiar  temptations  and  trials 
of  men  Who  are  the  nation's  hope  to-day. 

And  above  all,  because  of  love  for  the  old  farm, 


INTRODUCTION.  Vll 

and  a  wish  to  see  its  owner  prosper,  the  author  has 
tried  to  make  clear,  in  this  "plain  tale"  from  the  Penn- 
sylvania hills,  that  successful  farming  is  as  fine  an  art 
as  painting  or  architecture,  and  should  be  as  carefully 
studied.  The  theory  that  "  Any  fool  can  farm "  is 
exploded.  Only  shrewd  men  who  farm  on  strictly 
business  principles  have  a  right  to  marry  noble,  self- 
sacrificing  women,  and  rear  children,  in  the  country. 
The  misery  of  an  unsuccessful  farmer's  family  is  as 
real  and  their  deprivations  as  great  as  can  be  found 
anywhere.  Nowhere  else,  except  among  the  city's 
most  wretched  poor,  does  the  wife  toil  more  unremit- 
tingly, and  the  children  enjoy  fewer  opportunities  for 
developing  all  that  is  best  in  their  natures,  than  upon 
such  farms  as  that  of  Omar  Fairfax.  And  nowhere 
else  is  their  less  sympathy  between  parent  and  child, 
more  discord,  and  a  smaller  degree  of  the  peace  and 
contentment  which  should  be  found  so  "  near  to  Na- 
ture's heart." 

It  is  true,  Omar  Fairfax  is  an  exceptional  rather 
than  a  common  type  of  his  class.  Most  of  our  Amer- 
ican farmers  are  hard-working  men,  who  go  to  the 
other  extreme  and  attempt  too  much.  The  result  is 
the  same.  The  farm  yields  her  treasures  far  too  grudg- 
ingly, and  demands  sacrifices  disproportionately  great. 
Life  is  on  a  ledge.  Its  narrowness  appals.  Ambitious 
young  men,  with  Millet's  soulless  peasant  before  them 
as  a  type  of  what  men  may  become  through  ceaseless, 
unprofitable  drudgery,  become  alarmed,  and  divert 
their  energies  into  other  channels.  Those  who  remain 


viii  INTRODUCTION. 

on  the  farm  are  too  often  men  deficient  in  education, 
who  feel  that  they  are  therefore  only  fitted  for  work 
requiring  more  muscle  than  brain.  Too  late  they  rea- 
lize that  muscle  alone  will  fail  to  solve  the  complicated 
problems  of  farm  life. 

Silas  Collins  is  apparently  a  successful  farmer,  and 
yet  he  is  only  partially  successful.  His  broad  acres, 
keen  eye  to  business,  comfortable  home  and  substantial 
bank  account  still  leave  something  to  be  desired  in  his 
make-up  as  a  successful  farmer.  He  is  not  a  good 
man,  and  therefore  not  a  good  neighbor,  and  conse- 
quently not  a  good  citizen,  and  finally,  has  not  the  kind 
of  success  you  would  like  to  have  your  son  attain. 

An  honest,  straight- for  ward,  Christian  business 
man  is  what  the  author  of  this  book  would  like  to 
see  on  every  farm  in  this  broad  land.  One  who  can 
at  the  same  time  provide  for  his  own  and  observe  the 
Golden  Rule ;  one  that  the  best  of  us  would  be  glad 
to  join  fences  with  and  sorry  to  see  die ;  a  man  that 
believes  in  the  broadest  kind  of  education,  and  proves 
it  by  the  kind  of  sons  and  daughters  that  go  out,  to 
lives  of  usefulness,  from  his  home  —  young  people  with 
faculties  not  dwarfed,  but  developed,  and  who  have 
learned  what  is  best  worth  striving  for  in  life. 

On  a  little  farm  near  Hudson,  Ohio,  there  lives 
just  such  a  farmer.  Of  him  it  need  not  be  said,  as 
has  been  said  of  so  many  who  have  preached  better 
than  they  have  practiced :  "  What  you  are  thunders  so 
loudly  in  my  ears  that  I  can  not  hear  what  you  say." 
He  has  lived  the  life  that  he  has  for  so  many  years 


INTRODUCTION.  IX 

been  advocating.  It  is  a  well-rounded  life,  a  success- 
ful life  in  every  sense  of  the  word.  He  owes  his  suc- 
cess, mainly,  to  the  all-around  education  which  his  wise 
father  gave  him,  and  which,  in  turn,  he  has  bestowed 
upon  his  children.  This  man  is  W.  I.  Chamberlain, 
associate  editor  of  The  Ohio  Farmer,  and  originator 
of  the  "  Farmers'  Institute,"  which  has  done  so  much 
to  raise  the  standard  of  farming  in  many  States  of 
the  Union. 

The  writer  knows  him  best,  and  shall  always 
remember  him  most  gratefully,  as  the  editor  whose 
kindly  suggestions  made  "  The  Man  with  the  Hoe  "  a 
possibility  as  a  serial,  and  who,  twice  afterward,  with- 
out a  fee,  examined  and  criticised  revised  copies  of  the 
MS.  If  the  story  in  its  present  form  ever  meets  with 
the  smallest  meed  of  success,  it  will  be  because  his  sug- 
gestions were  heeded.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  book, 
after  all,  proves  unworthy  to  bear  its  title,  friends  of 
Mr.  C.  may  find  solace  in  the  following  (which  is 
not  new)  : 

Said  A :  "  What  a  poor  sort  of  a  man  Z  is,  with 
all  his  religion." 

"  Yes,"  said  B ;  "  but  think  what  he  would  have 
been  without  it !" 

ADAM  BLAKE. 

AUGUST,  1903. 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I.  PAGE 

ANTICIPATION  AND  REALIZATION  ................     i 

CHAPTER    II. 
THE  WEARY  WAY  HOME  .......................   1  1 


CHAPTER     III. 
LELE'S  WELCOME  HOME  ........................  20 

CHAPTER    IV. 
PROCURING  REFRESHMENTS  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES.  30 

CHAPTER    V. 
ED  ...................  .......................   45 

CHAPTER    VI. 
LELE'S  FIRST  DAY  AT  THE  FARM  ................   54 

CHAPTER    VII. 
How  THE  DAY  ENDED  .................  r  .......  74 

(xi) 


Xll  TABLE   OF   CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    VIII.  PAGE 

SUNDAY   MORNING 81 

CHAPTER   IX. 
LELE  AND  JENNIE 97 

CHAPTER   X. 
BETHANY 108 

CHAPTER   XI. 
VENUS  AND  DIANA '. .  125 

CHAPTER   XII. 
S YD  AND  LELE 142 

CHAPTER   XIII. 
SOME  MONDAY  MORNING  PROBLEMS 160 

CHAPTER   XIV. 
MR.  FAIRFAX'S  VIEWS  ON  BOYS 169 

CHAPTER   XV. 
THE  FAIRY  GODMOTHER "  . . .  185 

CHAPTER   XVI. 
REAL  AND  IMAGINARY  HAUNTS ,  .201 


TABLE  Of   CONTENTS.  xiii 

CHAPTER   XVII.                          PAGE 
"  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  HOUSE  " 220 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 
AN  UNWILLIN'  BARKIS 234 

CHAPTER   XIX. 
BROTHER  AND  SISTER 247 

CHAPTER   XX. 
AT  THE  STILE 261 

CHAPTER    XXI. 
"  TILL  THE  FIRST  OF  SEPTEMBER  " .275 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
A  SET-TO  AND  A  SET-BACK 290 

CHAPTER   XXIII. 
THE  MAN  AND  THE  HOE 297 

CHAPTER   XXIV. 
A  VACANT  CHAIR 314 

CHAPTER   XXV. 
PENITENCE  335 


xiv  TABLE;  of  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXVI.                            PAGE 
A  CRISIS 348 

CHAPTER   XXVII. 
"  UNDER  GREEN  APPLE  BOUGHS  " 362 

CHAPTER    XXVIII. 
FACING  THE  INEVITABLE 374 

CHAPTER    XXIX. 
THE  SALE 394 

CHAPTER    XXX. 
How  THE  DAY  ENDED  FOR  WARD  AND  SYD 410 

CHAPTER   XXXI. 
CONCLUSION 419 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE 


CHAPTER  I. 
ANTICIPATION  AND  REALIZATION. 

it  was  the  evening  before  Commencement  day  at 
Oxford  Female  Seminary.  Lelia  Fairfax  sat  alone  in 
her  room,  gazing  dreamily  over  the  emerald-green,  • 
shadow-flecked  campus.  Dear  was  the  scene  —  never 
dearer  than  now,  when,  after  four  years  of  study,  she 
was  to  leave  it  and  begin  life  in  earnest.  But,  despite 
broken  ties  of  friendship,  the  young  eyes  looked 
eagerly  into  the  future,  and  saw  there  hitherto  unex- 
plored vistas  of  happiness.  The  past  year  had  been 
clouded  by  a  great  sorrow :  an  aunt  who  had  cared  for 
the  motherless  girl  since  babyhood  had  died,  and  thus 
the  only  home  she  had  ever  known  was  broken  up, 
though  arrangements  had  been  made  for  her  to  take 
up  her  residence  in  the  family  of  her  guardian  as  soon 
as  she  left  school.  For.  eighteen  years  she  had  not 
seen  her  father ;  he  had  written  to  her  once  or  twice  a 
year,  but  had  never  asked  her  to  re-visit  the  old  home- 
stead until  now.  A  letter  inviting  her  to  spend  a  month 
with  him  lay  in  her  lap.  She  had  answered  it  with  a 


2  A  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

joyous  acceptance,  and  was  now  trying  to  picture  life 
in  the  dear  old  Pennsylvania  farm  house. 

An  interruption  to  her  day-dreams  occurred  ere 
long.  Sophie  Howard,  her  room-mate,  came  in,  and, 
lightly  kissing  her  upturned,  thoughtful  face,  ex- 
claimed : 

"A  penny  for  your  thoughts,  chum.  They  seem 
unusually  deep." 

"  I  was  thinking,"  said  Lelia,  "  of  what  life  holds 
for  me  beyond  our  Commencement  day  — '  when  the. 
lights  are  out,  the  guests  are  fled.' " 

"A  great  deal  of  happiness,  I-  am  sure,"  interrupted 
Sophie,  gaily.  "  Your  guardian  and  his  wife  are  rich 
and  childless,  have  a  beautiful  home,  are  most  delight- 
ful people,  and  as  fond  of  you  as  if  you  were  their 
own  daughter.  I  only  wish  I  stood  in  your  shoes." 

"  Sophie,  I  have  just  written  to  my  guardian  that 
I  have  decided  to  visit  my  old  home  in  Pennsylvania 
before  I  return  to  St.  Louis.  I  know  he  will  approve 
of  it,  for  my  aunt,  knowing  how  anxious  I  have  always 
been  to  see  papa,  relented  just  before  she  died,  and 
advised  Mr.  Carpenter  to  permit  me  to  re-visit  my 
Pennsylvania  home,  if  I  wished,  before  returning  to 
St.  Louis  after  my  graduation." 

"  Your  aunt  was  rather  odd,  I  believe.  But  I  never 
could  see  how  she  could  completely  separate  you  from 
your  own  father." 

"  Did  I  never  tell  you  the  story  ?  Auntie  never  liked 
to  talk  of  papa,  and  reticence  on  the  subject  became 
habitual  with  me. 


ANTICIPATION   AND   REALIZATION.  3 

"  You  see  it  happened  in  this  way :  Auntie  and 
mamma  had  made  a  foolish  compact  never  to  marry, 
in  which  their  elder  brother  joined.  But  mamma 
broke  her  promise  and  ran  away  to  marry  papa,  who 
was  never  afterward  liked  by  either  auntie  or  uncle. 
Mamma  was  their  idol,  and  they  forgave  her,  of  course. 
Uncle  went  to  St.  Louis  to  practice  law  shortly  after- 
ward, and  mamma  finally  persuaded  auntie  to  make  her 
home  with  her.  But  in  three  years  poor  mamma  died, 
and  auntie,  nearly  heart-broken,  resolved  to  devote  her 
life  to  the  care  of  my  baby  brother  and  myself." 

"  But  that  didn't  last  ?"  Sophie  suggested,  half 
smiling. 

"  No.  Papa,  never  very  popular  with  his  sister-in- 
law,  put  the  last  feather  in  the  cap  of  his  offenses  by 
marrying  again  in  about  a  year.  Auntie  could  not,  of 
course,  endure  to  live  in  a  house  where  another  woman 
occupied  her  idolized  sister's  place,  and  she,  after  a 
quarrel  with  papa,  determined  at  once  to  go  to  her 
brother  in  St.  Louis.  She  could  not,  however,  bear  to 
give  up  both  Eddie  and  me,  so  she  prevailed  upon  papa 
to  give  me  to  her,  promising  to  rear  and  educate  me 
as  her  own,  and  at  her  death  leave  me  her  property. 
She  chose  me  rather  than  Eddie  because  I  resembled 
mamma  more.  Papa  was  to  write  to  me  once  or  twice 
a  year,  but  must  never  see  me  while  she  lived.  He, 
having  married  a  widow  with  two  small  children, 
thought  it  wise  to  consent  to  this  arrangement,  and 
consequently  I  have  never  seen  him  since." 

"Your  aunt  died  last  summer?" 


4  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

"Yes,  just  before  I  returned  to  school.  My  uncle 
had  died  the  previous  year.  So  for  the  last  few  months 
I  have  not  had  a  relative  on  earth  whose  features  or 
tones  I  could  recall.  It  makes  me  heart-sick  to  hear 
the  other  girls  talking  of  their  parents  and  brothers  and 
sisters,  while  I  "  —  the  clear  voice  faltered,  and  a  tear 
fell  on  Sophie's  sleeve. 

"  Would  your  step-mother  make  you  welcome,  do 
you  think?"  asked  Sophie,  in  tones  of  sympathy. 

"  She  died  two  years  ago,  and  papa  has  expressed 
a  determination,  this  time,  never  to  marry  again." 

"  Strange  —  your  father  is  not  your  guardian." 

"  My  aunt,  having  inherited  her  brother's  small 
estate,  left  all  to  me  in  such  a  way  that  she  thought 
papa  could  never  acquire  any  control  over  it,  appoint- 
ing uncle's  law  partner,  Mr.  Carpenter,  my  guardian. 
But  I  do  not  think  papa  cares,  for  he  wrote  me  recently 
the  kindest  of  invitations  to  re-visit  my  old  home." 

"  Needless  to  ask  if  you  wish  to  go." 

"  Sophie,  I  am  anxious  to  go  to  Pennsylvania.  The 
desire  to  know  and  be  with  my  father  and  my  darling 
baby  brother  has  become  almost  unendurable.  Will 
you  believe  it?  Auntie  absolutely  forbade  me  ever  to 
write  to  Eddie.  She  knew  he  could  never  be  anything 
to  her,  and  thought  he  might  in  some  way  influence  me 
against  her.  Besides,  he  looks  like  the  Fairfaxes,  papa 
says,  and  that  fact  alone  was  sufficient  to  prejudice  poor 
auntie  against  him." 

"Well,  Lele,   you  occupy  a   strange  position.      I 


ANTICIPATION   AND   REALIZATION.  5 

rather  envy  you  the   acquisition   you   expect.     How 
many  brothers  and  sisters?" 

" '  Seven  in  all '  are  they,  and  I  feel  as  though  I 
could  not  wait  another  day  to  meet  them..  From  what 
papa  says,  I  think  the  Fairfax  homestead  must  be 
really  enchanting.  It  is,  he  says,  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful country  homes  in  Pennsylvania.  The  scenery  is 
beautiful ;  the  society  refined  and  cultured.  He  referred 
to  the  free,  joyous  country  life  in  such  a  way  as  to 
make  me  wild  to  get  away  from  the  smoky,  city  atmos- 
phere into  the  real,  broad-minded,  deep-hearted  coun- 
try. Face  to  face  with  Nature,  people  are  so  artlessly 
happy,  Sophie ;  they  know  so  little  of  the  cruel,  selfish 
world  that  they  have  scarcely  anything  to  disturb  the 
even  tenor  of  their  way  their  whole  lives  long;  the 
seasons  form  for  them  one  continuous  '  Nature's  serial 
story.'  " 

Sophie  raised  her  eyebrows  a  trifle  and  looked 
thoughtful. 

"  Perfectly  secure  in  their  living,"  Lelia  went  on, 
confidently,  "they  have  few  worries  and  no  crush- 
ing calamities  such  as  hang  constantly  over  the  heads 
of  city  people.  And,  best  of  all,  a  whole  community 
know  and  visit  each  other.  There  is  such  a  secure  and 
pleasant  intimacy  possible  as  could  never  exist  in  any 
city  neighborhood.  Think  of  life  minus  the  city  dis- 
cord, jangling,  petty  social  and  political  feuds  and  jeal- 
ousies,—  without  its  temptations  to  dissipation.  There 
you  may  confidently  look  for  broad  Christian  charity : 


6  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

for  simple,  consistent,  child-like  faith  in  God  and  man." 
"  I  have  always  thought  that  country  people  ought 
to  be  happy,"  said  Sophie,  with  a  shade  of  skepticism 
in  her  voice. 

"  Ought?  My  dear,  they  are.  They  can't  help  it. 
They  have  the  great  peace,  the  subtle  power  of  Nature, 
perpetually  about  them.  Their  lives  of  quiet,  contented 
toil  fit  them  for  right  living.  The  pure  air,  the  sing- 
ing birds,  and  the  majestic  tranquillity  of  the  eternal 
hills  are  sufficient  in  themselves  to  produce  a  negative 
happiness." 

Lele  had  never  lived  in  the  country  since  she  had 
arrived  at  years  of  discretion. 

****** 

Two  elderly  women  —  a  fat  German- American  and 
a  little  brown,  wrinkled  beldam,  with  an  old-fashioned 
traveling-basket  in  her  lap,  a  glib  tongue  in  her  head, 
and  a  shrewd  twinkle  in  her  keen  black  eyes  —  sat  in 
the  waiting-room  at  Harrod's  station,  gossiping  so  in- 
tently that  neither  of  them  observed  a  young  lady  who 
entered  some  minutes  after  the  4:30  train  passed  up. 

It  was  Lelia  Fairfax,  who  had  been  building  air- 
castles  all  the  way  from  Oxford,  based  on  the  grand 
ovation  she  was  to  receive  from  her  father's  household 
at  the  station  assembled.  She  knew  that  they  lived  at 
no  great  distance,  and  half  fancied  the  entire  family 
and  a  few  of  their  neighbors  would  turn  out  en  masse 
to  welcome  her  home.  She  had  been  told  by  certain 
Keystone  girls  that  that  was  the  custom  where  they 
lived.  Lele  inferred  that  it  was  a  state  practice.  But, 


ANTICIPATION    AND    REALIZATION.  7 

lo !  not  a  soul  had  come  forth  to  greet  her !  What  could 
be  the  reason? 

The  light  of  pleased  expectancy  had  all  died  out  of 
her  countenance ;  it  would  indeed  have  been  difficult  to 
recognize  in  the  drooping,  disappointed  face,  the  same 
that  had  beamed  with  such  captivating  smiles  when  she 
stepped  from  the  train  a  few  moments  ago. 

The  loafers  whom  every  passenger  train  attracts, 
even  in  the  country,  quickly  dispersed ;  the  very  ticket 
agent  and  telegraph  operator  vanished.  It  was  such 
a  still,  hot  afternoon  that  one  could  have  heard  the  blue- 
bottles buzzing  in  the  grimy  windows  but  for  the  two 
old  gossips,  who  were  evidently  awaiting  the  down 
train.  Every  syllable  was  plainly  audible  to  the  girl 
in  the  corner,  whose  attention  was  riveted  by  almost 
the  first  word  she  heard : 

"  Want  to  know  ef  I  know  anything  of  Fairfaxes, 
eh  ?"  the  little  wrinkled  woman  was  saying.  "  Yes,  I 
know  considerable.  Sammy's  wife  used  t'  live  there 
'fore  she's  married,  and  thro'  her  I  gethered  a  right 
smart  chance  o'  news.  They're  run  down  turrible  uv 
late  year,  I  warrant  ye.  Ome's  father,  ole  Mose  Fair- 
fax, was  a  fine,  portly  old  feller  —  six  foot  an'  a  rail- 
cut  in  his  stockin's  ef  he  was  an  inch  —  an'  proud  ez 
Pompey.  The'  wa'n't  nobody  could  lay  his  farmin'  in 
the  shade  —  raised  a  heap  o'  fine  cattle  an'  sheep  an' 
wheat ;  an'  ez  fer  fruit,  I've  never  seed  the  beat  on't. 
It's  amazin'  what  wheat  harvests  ole  Mose  uster  hev, 
too. 

"  I  kin  mind  when  they  used  t'  harvest  with  sickles. 


8  THE;  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE. 

\Yhen  cuttin'  time  come,  men  would  flock  in  by  the 
hundreds,  each  with  his  sickle  in  han'  ready  t'  hire. 
'Feared  like  the  hull  county  wanted  t'  be  in  at  the 
harvesting  an'  no  wonder,  for  the'- be  a  hull  raft  o' 
women  folks  bilin'  hams  out  in  camp  kittles,  roastin' 
pigs,  pottin'  lamb,  an'  stewin'  chicken,  an'  makin'  cus- 
tards an'  pound  cakes  t'  kill  an'  cripple. 

"  The  tables  fer  the  men  was  sot  under  the  trees  in 
the  front  yard,  an'  of  all  the  pourin'  of  coffee  an'  helpin' 
of  plates,  ye  never  see  the  beat!  They'd  eat  till  they 
couldn't  hold  no  more,  toppin'  off  on  cherry  bounce,  an' 
mebbe  gittin'  kinder  loud  in  their  chaff  to'des  the  last, 
fer  they  held  that  'all  jokes  wuz  free  in  harvest.'  Then 
they'd  take  a  rest  stretched  on  the  grass,  smokin'  like 
chimbleys,  or  mebbe  hev  a  set-to  at  'bear-haulin"  'fore 
they  went  back  to  the  field.  It  wuz  a  purty  sight,  /'// 
tell  ye,  to  see  their  sickles  aTflashin'  in  the  yaller  wheat. 
An'  th'  sheaves  they  did  bind  in  them  days!  None  o' 
yer  self-binder  bundles,  with  th'  heads  an'  tails  both 
stickin'  th'  same  way,  like  enough.  At  ever'  round 
they'd  up  an'  take  a  swig  o'  whisky,  then  at  it  agin 
lickct\'-spht!  Oh,  Mose  knowed  how  to  git  money  out 
o'  th'  farm ;  but  when  he  died  an'  th'  children  scattered 
off,  Ome,  bein'  th'  youngest,  got  most  of  th'  land,  but 
'twas  a  mistake  lettin'  him  hev  it,  fer  Ome  ain't  no 
great  shakes  at  nothin',  an'  farmin's  less  in  his  line 
than  'most  anything  else.  He's  allus  runnin'  fer  some 
little  office  or  other,  an'  'pears  to  think  his  farm  'U  run 
itself  if  he  'tends  to  public  duties. 

"  I   used  to  be  there  considerable   six  seven  vear 


ANTICIPATION   AND   REALIZATION.  9 

ago.  Tude  wuz  a  baby  settin'  on  th'  floor  last  time  I 
wuz  there.  They've  ben  runnin'  behind  ever  sence. 
Si  Collins  holds  a  mortgage  of  $5,000  on  their  place, 
an'  if  'twasn't  that  Syd  keeps  th'  interest  paid  up,  th' 
hull  kit  an'  tucket  uv  'urn  'ud  be  boosted  cl'ar  off  th' 
premises ;  an'  goodness  only  knows  what  'd  become  of 
'em,  they's  sich  a  raft  on  'em." 

If  good  Mrs.  Cahill  had  been  looking  at  poor, 
incredulous  Lele,  she  would  have  been  astonished  into 
silence  by  the  expression  of  the  girl's  amazed,  sorrow- 
stricken  face. 

"  They're  in  a  bad  row  fer  stumps,  sure,"  said  Mrs. 
CahilFs  auditor. 

4 

"  I  guess,"  responded  Mrs.  Cahill,  "  they  would  get 
on  agreeabler  among  theirselves  ef  th'  boys  —  espe- 
cially Ed  —  wuz  pleasanter.  Sal  could  stan'  Clem  an' 
Charlie,  roughish  ez  they  air ;  but  Ed !  he's  th'  surliest 
dog,  she  vows,  she  ever  had  to  set  at  th'  table  with. 
Allus  ready  to  git  miffed  at  somethin'  an'  bust  out 
a-cussin'.  And  they  say  th'  way  he  plays  cards  an' 
drinks  whisky  is  a  caution.  Him  an'  Ome  never  could 
'gee,'  and  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  to  hear  of  him  leavin' 
fer  parts  unknown  any  day.  I  actilly  wouldn't  put  it 
much  a-past  him  to  take  one  o'  th'  horses  with  him. 
He'll  never  get  nothin'  else,  goodness  knows.  Ed 
seems  to  hev  a  nateral  haterd  fer  farm  life,  but  is  fer- 
ever  tinkerin'  with  wheels.  Sal  says  he'd  some  kind 
of  a  buzz-saw  with  a  treddle  onto  it  fixed  up  in  his  room 
when  she  lived  there,  an'  of  all  th'  rattlin'  an'  bangin' 
an'  thumpin'  that  ever  she  heerd  in  all  her  born  days, 


10  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

he  kep'  up  th'  worst !  Right  in  the  busiest  season  he'd 
be  took  down  with  th'  inventin'  fever,  an'  be  in  amongst 
his  ole  wheels,  poundin'  and  whirrin'  away  to  beat 
sixty.  Sal  says  th'  noise  he  made  wuz  like  t'  split  yer 
haed ;  an*  then  like  enough  whatever  he  wuz  workin' 
at  wouldn't  go  jest  right,  an'  he'd  fling  it  on  the  floor 
an'  bust  it  all  to  smash.  Then  down  stairs  he'd  come, 
swearin'  an'  kickin'  at  ever'thing  in  his  way,  an'  fling 
hisself  out  o'  th'  house  sulky  ez  all  possessed." 

"  What  a  trial  he  must  be !" 

"  Yes,  he's  a  trial,  an'  Jen  hes  no  patience  with 
him,  ez  his  stepmother  had  while  she  lived.  Ed  wuz 
middlin'  well  behaved  until  she  died.  He's  past 
redemption  now." 


CHAPTER  II. 
THE  WEARY  WAY  HOME. 

The  5  o'clock  train  and  its  attendant  bustle  and 
confusion  had  rolled  into  the  realms  of  silence.  The 
woman  who  knew  the  history  of  the  Fairfax  family  so 
well  was  gone,  and  was  now,  no  doubt,  "  noratin*  "  the 
annals  of  some  other  family  to  her  attentive  listener  as 
the  train  bore  them  on.  Passengers  had  been  met  by 
their  friends;  no  one  was  left  neglected  and  solitary 
but  poor  Lele.  Again  the  blue-bottles  struck  up  their 
dismal  concert  in  the  window.  The  sun-baked  plat- 
form was  empty.  The  clock  ticked,  messages  went 
over  the  wires.  Nothing  occurred  to  break  the  monot- 
ony until  the  ticket  agent  glanced  in  through  the  open 
door  before  going  to  supper. 

"  Had  any  one  been  there  to  inquire  for  Lelia  Fair- 
fax?" he  was  asked. 

No  one  had  been. 

"  Could  a  conveyance  be  procured  ?" 

"  There  is  no  conveyance,"  he  replied.  "  Where  do 
you  go?" 

"  To  the  Fairfax  farm,"  settling  her  lips  into  firmer 
curves.  "  I  can  walk.  Please  direct  me."  She  could 
not  trust  her  voice  to  utter  a  long  sentence. 

"  You  go  two  miles  up  the  crick,"  he  replied,  point- 


12  THE;  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE. 

ing  to  a  road  that  crept  across  the  cinder-blackened 
track  and  lost  itself  among  the  shadowy  northern  hills  ; 
"  then  turn  square  to  the  right  an'  follow  a  cross-road 
half  a  mile.  A  big  ash  tree  in  a  fence  corner  on  the 
right  marks  the  boundary  between  the  Fairfax  an' 
Collins  farms.  Not  far  beyond  that  you'll  see  a  big 
brick  house  with  a  lot  of  trees  around  it.  That's  the 
Fairfax  place." 

Lele  thanked  him  and  hurried  away,  having  pre- 
viously requested  him  to  take  charge  of  her  trunks  until 
called  for. 

The  railroad  lay  in  a  valley,  and  west  of  the  station 
rose  a  high  hill  crowned  with  chestnut  trees.  Above 
this  hill,  like  a  great  golden  ball,  in  a  sky  all  amber  and 
unclouded,  hung  the  descending  sun.  The  shadows 
were  growing  long.  Soon  it  would  be  sunset  in  the 
valley,  and  before  her  lay  three  miles  or  so  of  unex- 
plored territory!  Huge  cottonwood  trees  screened  the 
dimpling  water  of  the  creek,  and  made  the  road  look 
dim  and  eerie.  As  the  day  waned,  their  bare,  white 
trunks  looked  more  and  more  ghostly ;  the  way  seemed 
unfrequented,  and  at  this  hour  was  undeniably  lonely. 

Lele  walked  fast  at  first,  in  a  tumult  of  emotion. 
Her  ears  yet  tingled,  her  heart  burned  with  the  mem- 
ory of  that  hateful,  surely  untrue,  gossip ;  she  had 
never  heard  such  things  intimated  before.  The  possi- 
bility of  their  being  true  overwhelmed  her  with  grief 
and  amazement.  No  sooner  was  she  alone  on  the  quiet 
road  than  she  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears. 

Some  miserable  moments  passed.     Then  the  storm 


THE   WEARY   WAY    HOME.  13 

blew  over.  Lele,  never  morbid,  quickly  regained  her 
tranquillity,  and  proceeded  in  a  more  hopeful  frame  of 
mind. 

"  What  is  the  use  to  make  myself  utterly  miserable 
over  imaginary  troubles?"  she  thought.  "Gossip  is 
nearly  always  untrue,  and  I  dare  say  when  I  reach 
home  I  shall  find  that  my  telegram  was  missent.  In 
an  hour  I  may  be  entirely  relieved  of  all  these  appre- 
hensions which  I  now  feel.  The  scenery  is  as  delight- 
ful as  I  expected.  What  right  have  I  to  doubt  the 
truth  of  the  rest  of  papa's  letter?" 

The  road  wound  among  hills  beautiful  with  the  rich 
verdure  of  June.  Their  steeply  sloping  pasture  fields 
supported  a  roving  population  of  sheep  and  cattle, 
though  here  and  there  was  a  little  "bench"  newly  set 
with  tobacco.  As  she  advanced,  broad,  cultivated  fields 
appeared.  Almost  every  turn  brought  into  view  some 
farm  house,  with  the  usual  accompaniment  of  orchard, 
garden  and  outbuildings.  Wheat  fields  golden  with 
ripeness  spread  now  over  the  less  steeply  sloping  hill- 
sides. A  peace-inspiring  scene,  enlivened  by  the  crow- 
ing of  barnyard  fowls,  the  distant  tinkling  of  sheep- 
bells,  or  the  melodious  notes  of  a  supper-horn. 

She  met  no  one  except  some  farmers  riding  home- 
ward on  their  fat  plow  horses,  which  looked  almost  as 
content  as  their  check-shirted  masters. 

"  Country  people  ought  to  be  happy,"  she  mused. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  how  far  it  is  to  Mr.  Omar  Fair- 
fax's?" she  presently  asked  of  a  small  boy  who  V'n<* 
"fishin'  for  pollywogs"  by  the  roadside. 


14  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

The  young  fisherman  eyed  her  for  a  moment  as  if 
mentally  debating  whether  to  answer  her  civilly  or 
bespatter  her  fine  hat  with  mud.  Something  in  her 
appearance  luckily  inclined  him  to  leniency,  and  he 
condescended  to  reply  in  an  absurd  piping  treble : 

"  I  don't  take  no  stock  in  the  Fairfaxes.  They 
won't  pay  my  pa  what  they  owe  him,  an'  I  natrally 
despise  cheats." 

"  Indeed !"     Lele  moved  off  a  few  steps. 

"  But  never  mind,"  the  fisherman  added.  "  I  c'n 
just  as  well  direct  you  as  not,  since  I'm  having  no  luck 
with  my  fish,"  and  he  gave  her  some  very  explicit  direc- 
tions. "  If  I  were  you,  I  wouldn't  visit  those  people," 
he  added ;  "they  zi'on't  pay  their  debts." 

"  Perhaps  they  can't,"  said  Lele,  feeling  that  lump 
rise  in  her  throat  again. 

"  Pa'll  find  a  way  to  make  'em  'fore  the  '  "nv  flies," 
replied  the  urchin.  "  We're  goin'  to  take  their  place." 
He  had  a  most  astonishing  way  of  talking  in  italics, 
throwing  in  an  occasional  exclamation  point  by  a  per- 
fectly inimitable  manipulation  of  the  eyebrows. 

"  Indeed,"  said  Lele,  moving  off  a  few  more  steps. 

"  I  hope  you  ain't  goin'  to  visit  Jennie  Fairfax,"  the 
small  boy  continued;  "she's  the  hatcf idlest  girl  alive!" 

"  I  am,  though,"  said  Lele. 

"  Well,  I'm  real  glad  to  see  the  old  thing  spited 
some  way,"  replied  the  sprite,  in  his  ludicrous  cres- 
cendo. "She  Jiatcs  visitors!" 

Lele  went  on.  rapt  in  uncomfortable  meditation. 

The  ash  tree  by  the  division  fence  was  at  length 


THE;  WEARY  WAY  HOME.  15 

passed.  Lele,  pausing  beneath  it  to  rest,  observed  that 
a  drove  of  hogs  in  the  Collins  premises  had  made  a 
breach  in  the  fence,  and  several  were  now  in  the 
adjoining  field  rooting  up  potatoes. 

It  was  now  sunset,  and  the  last  red  beams  lighted  up 
the  division  fence  with  remarkable  distinctness.  Lele 
involuntarily  counted  the  panels  from  the  road  to  the 
broken  place  in  the  fence,  and  hurried  on,  for  the  roof 
that  had  sheltered  her  in  babyhood  was  now  in  sight, 
and  she  was  impelled  forward  by  a  frantic  desire  to 
know  the  worst  at  once. 

At  last,  aching  with  fatigue  and  faint  with  hunger, 
she  reached  the  big  red  gate  that  formed  the  western 
entrance  to  a  broad  drive,  fringed  with  locust  trees, 
which  led  past  the  Fairfax  homestead  and  thence  to 
the  barn  and  stables.  v 

The  c;;:  ''g-ht  had  by  this  time  quite  vanished  from 
the  landscape,  but  under  the  glamour  of  the  soft  sum- 
mer twilight  the  place  struck  Lele  as  being  singularly 
beautiful.  The  wide,  sloping  lawn  was  deeply,  vividly 
green,  and  out  of  its  soft  turf  rose  clumps  of  graceful 
shrubbery,  finely  tapering,  delicate  evergreens,  whose 
branches  swept  the  ground  in  the  way  Nature  intended. 
A  true  landscape  gardener  had  set  the  trees  and 
guarded  them  from  distorting  pruning.  Magnificent 
elms  and  maples  were  grouped  about  the  gables,  cast- 
ing upon  the  wide,  pillared  veranda  a  sylvan  depth  of 
shadow  even  at  noon.  English  ivy  clambered  over  the 
chimneys,  grapevines  clustered  thick  about  the  rear 
porch  and  over  the  picturesque  well-house ;  while  the 


l6  THE   MAN   WITH   THE   HOE. 

veranda  pillars  were  wreathed  with  honeysuckle,  fra- 
grant with  the  perfume  of  a  thousand  creamy  blossoms. 

Lele  experienced  a  keen  pang  as  she  realized  that 
this  was  home —  her  home  she  had  hoped  to  call  it  — 
and  that  it  was  soon  to  pass  from  the  hands  of  the 
Fairfaxes,  who  had  bought  it  from  the  red  men  of  the 
forest  in  the  days  of  William  Penn,  and  had  retained 
it  ever  since  in  unbroken  descent  from  father  to  son. 

Lele  had  never  before  realized  how  dependent  she 
was  —  what  nice  provisions  had  been  made  to  prevent 
her  father  from  ever  getting  control  of  a  penny  of  Miss 
Roxy's  money. 

A  gate  far  down  the  lane  closed  with  a  sharp 
clang,  and  a  young  man  came  toward  her  with  a  bridle 
thrown  over  his  arm.  He  was  a  splendidly  propor- 
tioned fellow,  tall  and  broad  shouldered ;  he  walked 
easily,  with  long,  graceful  strides,  and  carried  his  head 
with  unconscious  grace.  There  was  an  elastic  strength 
in  his  step,  an  indicated  power  in  the  dark  gray  eyes 
under  their  straight,  well-defined  brows.  Evidently  he 
did  not  see  her,  for  he  was  walking  fast,  with  his  dark, 
unsmiling,  rather  severe  face  uplifted,  while  his  eyes 
scanned  the  evening  sky,  in  search  perhaps  of  rain 
clouds  along  the  horizon.  Your  born  farmer  is  ever 
on  the  lookout  for  rain  indications,  whether  it  be  rain 
or  dry  weather  that  is  needed. 

He  was  close  upon  her  before  he  saw  her  hold- 
ing the  red-barred  gate  back  against  the  light  of  the 
evening  sky.  He  started. 

She  was  curiously  regarding  him  —  filled  with  an 


THE   WEARY    WAY    HOME.  I/ 

inexpressible  longing  that  this  might  be  the  brother 
whom  she  dimly  recalled  as  a  darling  fair-haired  baby. 

"  Oh,  Eddie !"  she  cried.  "  Don't  you  recognize 
your  sister?"  barely  resisting  the  temptation  to  throw 
herself  into  his  arms  and  sob  out  her  full  heart  on  his 
shoulder. 

"  Syd,  you  mean,"  corrected  the  other,  reddening 
with  embarrassment,  but  taking  the  outstretched  hands 
in  both  of  his.  "  How  in  the  world  did  you  ever  get 
here?  I  was  just  going  to  meet  you." 

"I  —  walked,"  rather  faintly.    • 

"  Walked !  From  the  station  ?"  The  color  rose  hot 
into  his  face. 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  said  Lele,  gently. 

"  But  you  should  have  waited." 

"  I  concluded  you  had  failed  to  receive  my  telegram. 
Are  papa  and  all  well?" 

"  Quite  well,  thank  you."  Syd  looked  pale  now, 
as  though  smitten  with  shame.  He  glanced  twice  at 
her  as  he  closed  the  gate,  each  time  with  added  distress 
and  regret.  "  How  tired  you  look !  You  haven't  been 
home  for  years  and  years.  What  a  welcome!" 

"Oh,  don't,  don't  mention  it,"  cired  Lele,  turning 
toward  him  with  a  look  of  real  good  will.  "  I'll  never 
think  of  it  again." 

"/  shall,  for  I  ought  to  have  been  there  to  meet 
you.  We  are  harvesting,  but  have  no  right  to  plead 
'too  busy'  at  a  time  like  this.  I  regret  it  more  than 
7  can  say." 

4<  You  needn't,  for  by  walking  I  happened  to  see 

12) 


l8  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

a  hole  in  the  fence  by  your  potato  patch.  You  call  it 
a  patch,  don't  you?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Syd,  smiling.  "  If  quite  large,  you 
might  refer  to  it  as  a  field." 

"  This  was  quite  large,  and  several  hogs  were  in  it, 
rooting  up  the  potatoes." 

Syd  uttered  an  exclamation  under  his  breath  that 
sounded  like  "  Confound  it !"  and  his  face  clouded. 
Lele  observed  for  the  first  time  how  very  tired  he 
looked. 

"  I'm  so  sorry  I  couldn't  have  driven  them  out  for 
you,"  she  said.  "  But  I  don't  think  I  would  know  how. 
And  I'm  rather  afraid  of  animals." 

"  Your  timidity  would  vanish  if  you  had  driven 
stock  as  much  as  I  have,"  Syd  replied. 

"  You  say  stock,  do  you  ?"  mused  Lele.  "  I've 
never  been  in  the  country  enough  to  pick  up  the  farm 
vernacular.  But  I  think  I  could  soon  learn." 

"  You  could  learn  the  meaning  of  the  word  stock 
almost  any  morning  before  breakfast,"  said  the  young 
farmer,  somewhat  bitterly.  "  Half  a  dozen  neighbors 
are  liable  at  an  early  hour  to  send  in  word  that  our 
stock  have  been  making  inroads  on  their  premises." 

"  Is  that  the  way  farming  goes  ?"  Lele  asked.  "  I 
should  think  it  would  be  unpleasant." 

Syd  turned  his  head  aside  to  conceal  a  smile  at  this 
naii'c  remark. 

"A  good  many  things  about  farming  are  unpleas- 
ant," he  said,  and  a  sigh  followed  the  smile. 


THE   WEARY   WAY    HOME.  IQ 

"  It  doesn't  always  rain  when  you  want  dry  weather, 
does  it?"  Lele  asked. 

"  Not  quite.  But  a  misfit  bargain  in  weather  is  the 
usual  rule.  Only  you've  got  to  take  it  at  first  hand, 
cash  down." 

"  I  hope  Syd  isn't  a  weather  grumbler,"  thought 
Lele.  "  I've  heard  they  are  dreadful." 

They  ascended  the  veranda  steps  in  silence.  How 
lonely  and  romantic  the  old  house  looked  in  the  violet 
twilight  —  for  dusk  falls  fast  under  the  shadow  of 
large  trees.  Through  the  boughs  the  evening  star  was 
shining.  A  feeling  of  desolation  and  friendlessness,  of 
being  very  far  away  from  home  among  cold  strangers, 
struck  through  Lele.  It  was  doubtless  because  the 
house  was  so  still  and  dark.  Not  a  light  beamed  from 
any  window,  and  in  the  empty  rooms  a  few  mosquitoes 
droned.  Fireflies  glimmered  in  the  shrubbery ;  near 
the  steps  a  glow  worm  had  lit  his  little  lamp.  One  of 
the  neighbor's  dogs  barked  monotonously,  ceaselessly. 

Syd,  going  forward  into  the  long,  shadowy  hall, 
struck  a  light,  invited  Lels  into  the  parlor,  and  excused 
himself  to  look  for  the  rest  of  the  family,  who  were  all 
obviously  out  of  the  house. 

Not  a  sound  indicated  the  presence  of  another 
human  being.  Lele,  dreadfully  fatigued,  sank  into  an 
arm-chair  near  the  window,  and  could  only  keep  herself 
awake  by  fancying  that  she  heard  a  ghost  coming  down 
stairs.  This  place,  so  solitary,  and  pervaded  by  a 
silence  so  unearthly,  must  surelv  be  haunted. 


CHAPTER  III. 
LELE'S  WELCOME  HOME. 

Out  in  the  cowpen,  at  the  end  of  the  garden,  Syd 
found  his  sisters,  Jennie  and  Cora,  milking  the  cows, 
while  Tude,  the  baby  and  pet  of  the  family,  a  curly- 
haired  maiden  of  six  or  eight,  kept  agitating,  by  means 
of  an  elder  branch,  the  buffalo  gnats  that  swarmed  on 
the  flanks  of  the  much-enduring  cud-chewers.  Syd's 
voice  startled  them. 

"  Girls,  what  do  you  think !  Lele  has  come  by  her- 
self—  walked  all  the  way  out  alone.  Isn't  it  awful?" 

"  What  is  so  awful  about  it  ?  Haven't  I  done  the 
same  myself  many  a  time  without  horrifying  anybody  ?" 

It  was  Jennie  who  spoke.  She  was  milking  fast, 
with  both  hands,  into  a  well-scoured  tin  pail,  and  did 
not  pause  or  turn  around  at  the  news.  Jen  was  a  slen- 
der girl,  dressed  in  faded  calico,  with  a  blue  gingham 
sunbonnet  pulled  down  over  her  eyes.  The  curtain  of 
the  bonnet  was  frayed  almost  to  strings,  and  her  sleeves 
were  patched.  Dogged  enough  she  looked  sitting  there 
on  her  three-legged  stool. 

"  Oh,  Syd,  you  ought  to  have  hurried,"  said 
Cora,  abandoning  herself  to  astonishment  and  dismay. 
"Won't  father  be  mad!" 

(20) 


WELCOME  HOME.  21 


"  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  late,"  Syd  replied,  in  a 
worried  tone.  "  We  must  make  it  up  by  treating  her 
particularly  nice,  now  she's  here.  Do  hurry  up,  girls. 
I've  got  to  run  over  to  the  potato  patch  and  put 
Collinses'  hogs  out." 

"  In  again,  after  you  fixed  the  fence  all  morning!" 
cried  Cora. 

"  I  believe  Collins  lets  'em  in  his  own  self,"  added 
Tude. 

Jennie  never  turned  her  head  or  spoke,  except  to 
admonish  Cora  to  go  on  with  her  work. 

"Do  stop,  Jinsey,  and  go  speak  to  her,"  pleaded  Syd. 

"  I  —  can't!"  in  smothered  tones  from  the  depth  of 
the  pathetic-looking  old  sunbonnet. 

"  Don't  act  so,  Jen.  You'll  like  her  when  you  know 
her.  She's  a  perfect  lady,  nice  as  she  can  be." 

"  Why  shouldn't  she  be  a  lady  ?  She's  had  advan- 
tages enough,"  and  fierce  tears  rolled  over  her  round 
cheeks  as  she  thought  of  her  own  lack  of  advantages. 

"Advantages  don't  always  make  ladies  of  women. 
And  in  any  case,  her  father  invited  her  here,  as  I  guess 
you  know,  and  we've  got  to  entertain  her." 

"  I'm  tired  of  entertaining  people  that  he  invites 
here.  He  never  considers  in  the  least  whether  we  want 
them.  And  I'm  sure  none  of  us  want  his  fine  lady 
daughter,  with  her  money  and  style  and  education.  It's 
the  feather  too  much,  7  say!" 

"  What's  the  use  to  go  on  so,  now  she's  here  ?" 
Syd  spoke,  despondently.  "  You  are  growing  to  be  a 
perfect  misanthrope." 


22  THE   MAN   WITH   THE   HOE. 

{s 

"  I  don't  care !"  cried  Jennie,  in  a  voice  of  contained 
fury.  "  I  don't  care  for  anything  or  anybody !" 

"  Don't  ever  let  me  hear  you  speak  again  like  that, 
Jean  Fairfax,"  Syd  spoke,  in  a  changed  tone,  and  his 
eyes  flashed.  It  was  a  tone  that  made  even  rebellious 
Jennie  quail  and  tremble  down  under  her  drooping  sun- 
bonnet.  Tude  looked  scared,  and  redoubled  her  exer- 
tions as  far  as  possible,  and  Cora,  hitherto  idle,  returned 
to  her  work. 

But  it  was  long  before  Syd  got  the  family  assembled 
to  welcome  the  coming  guest.  After  the  really  indis- 
pensable evening  work  was  attended  to  and  all  were 
at  liberty  to  meet  their  guest,  another  difficulty  arose. 
The  girls  u'onld  dress  up  and  the  boys  would  not. 
Syd  contrived  finally  to  get  the  boys  to  look  half-way 
respectable,  and  the  girls  not  to  look  too  fine.  But  all 
were  agreed  on  one  point:  they  would  not  make  any 
"spread"  over  their  guest. 

Little  Tude  was  the  only  exception.  Fond  of  com- 
pany and  anxious  to  please,  she  readily  consented  to 
bear  Lele  company  while  the  rest  were  "fixing  up," 
and  in  a  few  minutes  Syd  reappeared  at  the  parlor  door 
with  the  flower  of  the  family  at  his  heels. 

"  I've  brought  Tude  to  talk  to  you,"  he  said.  "  The 
other  girls  are  busy,  but  will  be  in  shortly,  and  father 
hasn't  got  home  yet.  Caught  on  a  jury,  as  usual,  I 
suppose.  I'll  tell  Ed  you've  come.  Here,  Susanna, 
tell  your  new  sister  how  many  kittens  and  pigs  and 
chickens  you  have." 

Lele  and  Tude  were  soon  engaged  in  an  animated 


USUC'S   WELCOME   HOME.  23 

conversation  upon  the  cats;  chickens,  pigs  and  calves 
of  the  establishment.  A  great  beetle  came  whirring  in 
through  the  open  window  and  went  sailing  around  the 
room,  evidently  bent  on  knocking  its  brains  out  against 
the  wall.  Lele  dodged  it  once  or  twice,  and  finally, 
when  it  fell  to  the  floor,  involuntarily  put  her  foot  on 
it,  and  crushed  it  lifeless. 

"  Oh,  poor  beetle !"  said  the  tender-hearted  Lele. 
"  I've  spoiled  your  whole  life,,  haven't  I  ?" 

"  Pooh !"  laughed  Tude.  "  It's  nothing  but  a 
bumpin'  bug.  We  kill  'em  lots  o'  times.  You  ought 
to  see  Jen  roll  out  o'  bed  in  the  middle  of  the  night  an' 
smash  'em  with  a  broom." 

"  It's  a  pity  to  kill  harmless  things  when  they  are  so 
happy,"  sighed  Lele.  "  That  beetle  was  having  a  real 
picnic  all  by  himself." 

"  Was  he  ?  I  never  thought  of  that,"  said  the  child, 
soberly.  "  But  it's  no  use  to  mention  it  to  Jinks.  She 
says  killin'  'em  relieves  her  mind.  An'  I  guess  relievin' 
a  person's  mind  is  of  more  use  than  savin'  a  bumpin' 
bug,  isn't  it?" 

"A.t  length  the  door  opened  and  Syd  came  in,  fol- 
lowed by  his  sisters,  whom  he  introduced  as  Jean  and 
Cora.  Their  reception  chilled  her  to  the  heart.  They 
advanced  scarcely  a  step  into  the  room,  did  not  seem 
to  see  her  outstretched  hand,  and  sat  down  in  silence 
near  the  door.  Syd  for  an  instant  glowed  with  anger, 
but  seeing  that  Jennie  was  in  one  of  her  very  worst 
moods,  and  that  Cora  seemed  resolved  to  imitate  her, 
he  sat  down  near  Lele  and  resolutely  maintained  half 


24  THE   MAN   WITH   THE   HOE. 

the  conversation.  It  was  of  no  use  to  expect  the  girls 
to  talk ;  they  wouldn't,  and  Syd's  face  burned  with 
shame  for  them. 

Lele  observed  them  with  wonder  bordering  on  in- 
credulity. They  were  nice  looking  young  girls,  Cora 
about  fifteen,  Jean,  or  Jennie,  as  she  was  usually  called, 
three  or  four  years  older.  Cora  was  fair  and  chubby. 
She  had  blue  eyes,  her  face  was  round,  and  her  long, 
light  brown  braids  of  hair  reached  nearly  to  her  knees. 
Lele  thought  of  Godiva,  and  longed  to  see  that  glorious 
mane  shaken  out  in  all  its  rippling  luster  over  the 
child's  shoulders.  Nothing  about  her  indicated  tem- 
per ;  indeed,  she  would  rather  have  talked  to  Lele  than 
not,  but  loyalty  to  her  injured  and  long-suffering  sister 
kept  her  silent.  Jean  was  ambitious,  but  her  ambitions 
had  all  been  thwarted ;  and  jealousy  of  her  step-sister's 
advantages  had  filled  her  with  such  an  intense  dislike 
for  that  young  lady  that  she  considered  it  a  real  con- 
cession to  sit  in  her  presence.  As  for  pretending  to  like 
Lele  Fairfax,  that  was  out  of  the  question.  Jean's  best 
and  worst  trait  was  her  uncompromising  sincerity.  It 
is  a  commendable  trait  in  most  persons,  but  the  truth  is, 
it  made  a  disagreeable  girl  of  Jean  McKnight. 

She  had  a  very  striking  face  —  one  that  would  have 
been  handsome  with  a  winning  expression  to  soften 
it, —  and  a  pair  of  large,  wonderful  eyes,  of  an  intense 
blackness,  under  their  fringed  lashes.  Lele  noticed 
what  a  fine,  well-poised  head  she  had,  and  how  alive 
her  face  was  with  quick  intelligence ;  how  she  seemed, 
in  spite  of  effort  to  the  contrary,  to  listen  hungrily  to 


WELCOME   HOME.  25 

what  Lele  was  saying  about  her  school  and  the  West. 
When  places  and  persons  of  note  were  mentioned,  or 
famous  books  and  pictures  referred  to,  Jennie  almost 
forgot  the  role  she  was  playing  in  her  desire  to  join  in 
the  conversation ;  but  each  time  she  checked  herself  and 
remained  stolidly  silent. 

Lele's  father  had  been  called  away  on  business,  and 
would  not  return  that  night ;  but  in  despite  of  the  gossip 
to  which  she  had  unwillingly  listened,  she  had  faint 
hopes  of  a  kindly  greeting  from  Ed.  As  for  Cora  and 
Jean,  their  presence  weighed  upon  her  like  an  incubus. 
Much  as  she  had  longed  for  them  to  appear,  she  would 
now  have  felt  their  absence  a  relief. 

At  length,  during  a  pause,  in  which  Jennie  had 
looked  as  unapproachable  as  an  iceberg,  and  Cora  had 
gazed  at  the  lamp,  as  though  unconscious  of  the  pres- 
ence of  a  guest,  the  door  opened  abruptly,  and  a  short, 
heavy-set,  stolid  youth  of  eighteen  or  so  walked  up  to 
Lele  with  the  dogged  air  of  one  who  wishes  to  get 
through  an  unpleasant  duty  as  soon  as  possible. 

Lele  rose,  trembling  and  faint  with  contending  emo- 
tions. This  was  her  "darling  baby  brother,"  for  whom 
she  had  longed  all  these  years.  She  held  out  both 
hands  in  an  appealing  way,  and  tears  sprang  to  her 
eyes.  Syd  alone  noticed  how  agitated  she  was. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  knowed  you  only  fer  the  photo 
you  sent  pap,"  Ed  said,  shaking  hands  awkwardly 
and  hastily  backing  off.  "  Sorry  he  ain't  at  home," 
he  added,  as  though  he  felt  something  additional  was 
required  and  he  didn't  know  what 


26  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

Lele  could  scarce  frame  a  reply.  The  thought  of 
meeting  her  own  brother  so  coldly  hurt  her  worse  than 
even  the  meeting  with  Cora  and  Jean.  It  was  with  the 
utmost  difficulty  that  she  repressed  a  sob.  And  worse 
than  all,  she  felt  that  she  was  regarded  with  a  kind  of 
wondering  contempt  by  all  present  except  Syd,  who 
looked  downcast  and  chagrined. 

Before  she  could  feel  sure  enough  of  her  voice  to 
make  conversation  safe  again  the  younger  boys  came 
in.  Little  Clem  said  "How-de-do"  bashfully  and  crept 
into  a  corner  back  of  Jennie ;  but  Charlie,  who  had  the 
brightest  face  of  any  of  them,  shook  hands  with  real 
friendliness. 

"  I  hope  you're  not  tired,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  very 
like  Syd's. 

This  bit  of  tardy,  though  unexpected,  kindness  so 
wrought  upon  poor  Lele  that  she  was  sure  for  a 
moment  that  she  would  disgrace  herself  in  the  eyes  of 
this  critical  family  and  sob  outright.  She  dared  not  give 
him  a  smile,  for  she  knew  the  tears  would  drown  it. 
And  Charlie  thought  her  a  very  proud  girl.  Worse 
still,  the  bored  look  which  she  was  obliged  to  assume 
as  a  mask  for  her  real  feelings  struck  fire  from  Jennie's 
flinty  heart  and  consumed  therein  the  last  fragment  of 
her  hospitality. 

"  She  looks  as  if  she  detested  the  last  one  of  us," 
she  thought.  "  So  much  the  better.  We  shan't  be 
bothered  with  her  a  great  while.  I  wish  I  could  have 
met  her  at  the  door  and  told  her  she  wasn't  wanted. 
She'll  not  get.  much  pampering  here,  I'll  let  her  know." 


LELES   WELCOME   HOME.  27 

Another  dreadful  pause  ensued.  Syd  racked  his 
brains  in  vain  for  something  to  say,  while  more  beetles 
came  in  and  tried  to  stir  the  oppressive  silence.  Lele 
grew  paler.  She  was  aching  with  fatigue  and  her  eye- 
lids were  heavy.  Sometimes  she  felt  that  it  was  all  a 
horrid  dream.  It  was  impossible  to  believe  that  what 
was  transpiring  was  real.  That  black-eyed  girl  in  the 
corner  seemed  to  be  transfixing  her  like  Medusa,  and 
Lele  had  some  indefinable  fears  of  turning  to  stone. 

Lele's  only  consolation  was  the  old  king's  unfailing 
motto :  "And  this,  too,  shall  pass."  Dull  evenings,  like 
dull  sermons,  can  but  end  if  one  will  wait  long  enough, 
as  do  all  things  mundane.  And  in  time  this  one  came 
to  an  end. 

Jennie,  bringing  a  lamp,  offered,  with  some  show  of 
alacrity,  to  conduct  her  weary  and  disheartened  guest 
to  her  room.  Lele  hesitated  an  instant,  glad  as  she 
was  to  seek  her  pillow.  Disappointed  as  she  was,  she 
was  yet  too  young  and  healthy  to  forget  that  she  had 
an  appetite,  which  for  hours  had  been  clamoring  for 
food.  But  Jennie  had  evidently  forgotten  all  about 
supper,  and  Lele,  after  all,  had  not  the  courage  to 
remind  her  of  it.  She  followed  her  step-sister  upstairs 
without  a  word. 

At  the  top  of  the  stairs  was  a  long  hall,  having 
several  doors  opening  from  it.  To  the  farthest  of 
these  Jennie  conducted  her,  and  taking  a  key  from  her 
pocket,  unlocked  the  door,  and  stood  aside  motioning 
her  guest  to  enter. 


28  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

"  Here's  the  lamp,"  said  she,  coldly.  "  You'd  better 
open  the  windows.  Good-night." 

"  Could  I  trouble  you  for  a  pitcher  of  water?"  Lele 
ventured  to  inquire.  She  could  hardly  keep  from  add- 
ing, "and  a  piece  of  bread  and  butter"  !  But  Jennie's 
manner  made  such  a  request  impossible,  and  Lele 
resolved  to  fast  until  breakfast. 

Jennie  went  to  bring  the  water,  and  Lele  turned  her 
attention  to  her  surroundings.  The  room  was  one  of 
those  "spare  rooms,"  papered  with  the  rich,  embossed 
paper  of  a  past  generation,  once  beautiful,  but  now 
broken  and  dropping  from  the  wall  in  places.  It  was 
considered  "fine"  twenty-five  or  thirty  years  ago,  but 
now,  with  its  damask-curtained  bed  and  stern-looking 
family  portraits,  like  the  parlor,  was  antiquated,  and 
glomily  suggestive  of  uncanny  tales. 

Feeling  rather  sick  and  faint,  she  set  the  lamp  on 
the  queer  old-fashioned  washstand  and  opened  the  win- 
dows ;  the  air  was  stifling,  having  that  close,  musty 
smell,  which  always  characterizes  long  shut-up  rooms, 
and  which  had  so  oppressed  her  in  the  parlor. 

Breathing  the  pure  air  revived  her  strength,  but, 
alas !  awoke  her  hunger  keenly.  Lele  felt  half  fam- 
ished. She  rummaged  her  little  telescope  in  vain  for 
a  morsel  of  candy  or  fruit  to  appease  that  gnawing 
appetite. 

"  I  don't  remember  ever  to  have  been  so  hungry," 
she  thought. 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  had  such  an  expe- 
rience as  this ;  the  world  had  smiled  upon  her  hitherto. 


LELES   WELCOME   HOME.  29 

Even  at  school  she  had  been  well  cared  for  and  happy. 
And  here,  in  her  father's  house,  she  -was  denied  not 
only  the  affectionate  welcome  she  had  been  led  to 
expect,  but  food  when  she  was  hungry !  Something 
was  wrong,  dreadfully  wrong.  She  began  to  believe 
that  the  old  gossip  at  the  station  had  told  the  truth 
about  the  Fairfaxes. 

Lele  knelt  before  one  of  the  windows,  rested  her 
chin  on  her  folded  arms,  and  gazed  at  the  stars  that 
shone  down  from  heaven  like  friendly  eyes.  Nature 
.was  in  her  most  benignant  mood  to-night,  and  the  tired 
and  home-sick  girl  was  soothed  by  it.  The  warm  air, 
drenched  with  the  perfume  of  rose  and  honeysuckle, 
came  to  her  like  a  benediction  of  the  night. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
PROCURING  REFRESHMENTS  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES. 

By  the  time  Jennie  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs  her 
brothers  and  sisters  were  all  assembled  in  the  dining- 
room,  deep  in  discussion  over  the  merits  and  demerits 
of  their  visitor. 

"  Well,  she's  pretty,  anyhow,"  said  little  Tude,  as 
Jennie  entered  the  room. 

"  Pretty,  indeed !"  demurred  Charlie,  making  a  wry 
face ;  he  had  not  liked  her. 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  were  stuck  on  her,"  said 
Cora,  in  her  slow,  liquid  tones.  "  You  shook  hands 
with  her  friendlier  than  any  of  us." 

"And  got  snubbed.for  his  pains!"  added  Jennie,  as 
she  brushed  past  him. 

"  Jen's  always  seeing  people  act  snubby,"  observed 
Clem,  wrinkling  up  his  funny  little  nose.  He  was  three 
years  younger  than  Charlie,  who  was  thirteen,  and  very 
much  like  him. 

"  Jen  deserves  a  snubbin',"  said  Ed,  in  his  gruff 
voice ;  "the  way  she  treated  Lele ;  set  back  in  the  corner 
an'  never  said  coaly  about  supper!" 

"Well,  if  that  isn't  a  jolly  go!"  laughed  Charlie. 
"Won't  'Sphixia  give  her  any  supper?" 

(30) 


PROCURING  REFRESHMENTS  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES.     3! 

"  No,  I  won't!"  said  Jean,  who  answered  to  all  sorts 
of  nicknames,  of  which  "  Miss  Asphyxia "  was  one 
not  much  to  her  taste. 

"Why,  I'd  forgotten!  I  don't  expect  she  has  had 
any  supper,"  cried  Syd,  and  a  look  of  vexation  dawned 
in  his  eyes.  "  Jen,  did  you  ask  her  ?" 

"  You  know  I  didn't.  I  don't  care  a  copper  if  she 
starves  outright." 

Whereupon  Ed,  who  had  been  watching  her  through 
the  half-open .  door,  slammed  it  and  stamped  moodily 
out  on  the  porch. 

"  I  wonder  the  plaster  doesn't  fall,"  remarked 
Jennie,  as  she  poured  some  water  into  a  pitcher. 

"  Jen,  if  you  don't  stop  aggravating  Ed,  you'll  be 
sorry  for  it  one  of  these  days,"  remonstrated  Syd. 
"  He  wouldn't  be  half  so  bad  as  he  is  if  it  wasn't  for 
you.  I'd  be  ashamed  to  let  that  girl  see  what  a 
disposition  you  have." 

"  I'm  not  one  bit  worse  than  the  rest  of  you." 

(  "Hear !  hear !"  said  Charlie,  appealing  to  the  house 
in  a  sepulchral  tone.) 

" —  Only  you  all  like  to  throw  the  blame  on  me  " — 

("  Poor,  down-trodden  Xantippe,"  sighed  Charlie.) 

" —  If  she  comes  here  and  tries  to  make  Ed  think 
he's  ill  treated,  she'll  get  no  palaver  from  me." 

("No,  no!"  groaned  Charlie.) 

" —  I  detest  her  already.  I  never  saw  any  one  I 
disliked  so  much." 

"  One  reason  you  dislike  her  so  much  is  because 
you've  treated  her  so  mean." 


32  THE;  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE. 

"  How  much  better  have  you  treated  her,  I'd  like 
to  know !"  flashed  the  angry  girl.  "  Didn't  I  beg  you 
boys  to  go  to  the  station  for  her,  and  you  every  one 
refused  ?" 

"  Beg  pardon,"  said  Charlie.  "  You  tried  to  drive 
the  rest  of  us,  an'  we  wouldn't  be  driv." 

"  She  hates  us  now  as  bad  as  she  can,"  said  Jennie, 
ignoring  Charlie  except  with  her  eyes,  which  burned 
him  like  live  coals,  "and  it's  no  use  to  smooth  matters 
over." 

"  It  would  take  a  ten-pound  iron  to  take  the  creases 
out  of  'em  the  way  they  are,"  said  the  incorrigible 
Charlie.  "  I  never  saw  matters  any  more  wrinkled 
than  they  are  at  present." 

"  If  we  kept  her  here,"  Jennie  went  on,  with  a 
dogged  persistency  worthy  of  a  better  subject,  "and 
waited  oh  her  for  six  weeks,  there'd  be  a  fuss  at  last, 
as  there  was  with  her  Aunt  Roxy,  and  she'd  go  off 
mad  an'  talk  about  us,  as  everybody  does.  I'd  just  as 
soon  she'd  leave  mad  to-morrow." 

"  If  she  stays  for  six  weeks,  your  Markley  chances 
will  go  down  from  par  to  one  below  zero,"  said  Charlie. 
"  I  think  you'd  best  not  try  the  ironing  process." 

Jennie  had  a  strong  desire  to  empty  Lele's  water 
pitcher  in  Charlie's  face,  but  desisted,  and  was  just 
leaving  the  room  when  Syd  called  out : 

"  Set  that  pitcher  down,  Jen.  Didn't  she  say  she 
wanted  a  drink?  You  shall  take  her  fresh  water  or 
none." 

"  Then   I'll  take  her  none,"   said  Jennie,   flinging 


PROCURING  REFRESHMENTS  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES.      33 

down  the  pitcher  so  roughly  that  the  water  flew  out  on 
the  table. 

"And  you  won't  take  her  any  supper?" 

"No!"  screamed  Jennie. 

"  Then  I  will,"  and  snatching  up  the  pitcher,  he  ran 
out  to  the  well,  nearly  knocking  down  Ed,  who  was 
sulking  on  the  back  porch  under  the  grapevines. 

Ed  swore  as  usual  when  disturbed,  and  asked, 
grumblingly  "If  the  house  was  a-fire,  or  had  somebody 
fainted  ?" 

"Neither,"  Syd  replied,  pumping  furiously;  "but 
I'm  not  going  to  let  a  guest  suffer  from  hunger  or 
thirst  while  I'm  around." 

Ed  swore  he  wouldn't  stand  it  to  have  Jennie  treat 
Lele  so. 

"And  I  won't  stand  it  to  have  my  sister  sworn  at," 
retorted  Syd.  "  You've  got  so  coarse  and  profane  of 
late  that  you're  hardly  human.  You've  got  to  mend 
your  ways  about  the  house  or  there'll  be  a  fight,  and 
somebody'll  get  licked." 

"  It  won't  be  you,  of  course,"  sneered  Ed. 

Syd  ran  into  the  house  without  replying.  Setting 
down  the  pitcher,  he  said  decidedly  to  Cora: 

"  Code,  get  a  plate  and  something  to  eat,  and  take 
it  up  to  Lele.  Be  quick  about  it,  too." 

Cora  began  to  demur  in  her  kittenish  way. 

"  I  declare  I  don't  believe  there's  anything  hardly 
cooked,"  she  said,  opening  the  cupboard  doors  and 
hanging  on  to  them  with  both  hands.  "  Can  I  cut  the 
cake,  Jen?" 

(3) 


34  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

"  You  can  if  you  can  find  it,"  said  Jen,  dryly. 

"  I  don't  believe  there's  any  butter  up,"  said  Cora, 
in  her  soft,  lazy  voice,  which  Jennie  often  declared  set 
her  teeth  on  edge,  "and  I  just  won't  go  to  the  cellar. 
That's  flat." 

"  She'll  be  in  the  land  of  dreams  before  you  get  her 
supper  ready,"  said  Charlie.  "  I  often  think,  Cod-ak, 
that  rather  than  exert  yourself  to  stick  together,  you'd 
cheerfully  fall  to  pieces." 

"  I  do  believe  the  beef's  in  the  cellar,  too,"  said 
Cora,  yawning.  "  If  'tis,  I'll  give  it  up,  for  I'm  not 
a-goin'  to  the  cellar." 

Syd  swept  her  aside  and  himself  proceeded  to  inves- 
tigate the  contents  of  the  larder.  His  first  "find"  was 
a  glass  of  clear,  scarlet  jelly.  "  You'll  not  cut  that," 
said  Jennie,  angrily.  "  It's  my  currant  jelly,  and  I 
won't  have  it  touched  for  the  likes  of  her." 

"  Oh,  dear,  no !  that's  for  Joe  —  Markley !"  sang 
Charlie. 

"  You  mind  your  own  affairs,"  Syd  was  saying,  by 
no  means  gently,  and  taking  the  lamp,  he  descended  to 
the  cellar,  where  he  obtained  a  glass  of  milk,  some 
butter,  some  cold  beef,  cake  and  pickles.  Returning 
somewhat  mollified,  he  found  the  jelly  non  cst. 

"Where's  the  jelly?"  he  asked. 

"  I  put  it  away,"  said  Jennie. 

Syd  cut  some  slices  of  bread  in  ominous  silence. 

"  He's  mad,"  whispered  Tucle  to  Jennie.  "  You'd 
better  pony  up  the  jell.  There's  lightning  in  his  eye." 


PROCURING  REFRESHMENTS  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES.      35 

"  Now  I  want  the  jelly,"  announced  the  big  brother, 
in  a  tone  not  to  be  disobeyed. 

Jennie  pointed  disdainfully  to  the  top  of  the  side- 
board. 

"Where's  the  waiter?"  next  demanded  Syd,  as  he 
took  down  the  jelly. 

"  You  seem  to  be  the  head  waiter,  Syd." 

"  I  mean  the  tray." 

"  It  was  in  the  kitchen  this  evening,"  said  Cora, 
yawning ;  "  but,  land !  I  don't  know  where  it  is  now. 
There's  no  certain  place  for  anything  about  this  house." 

"  She  will  be  in  the  land  of  dreams,  sure,"  said 
Clem,  plaintively,  as  Syd  instituted  a  search  for  the  tray. 

"  Here  it  is  at  last,"  sighed  Syd,  wearily,  after  look- 
ing for  it  in  forty  different  places.  "  Now  we're  ready. 
Code,  you  must  take  this  upstairs  and  apologize  for  not 
asking  her  out  to  supper." 

"  Not  I,"  said  Cora.  "  I  don't  know  what  excuse 
to  offer  for  not  asking  her  when  she  was  in  the  parlor." 

"  Come,  make  up  something,"  Syd  exclaimed,  impa- 
tiently. 

"  I'll  not  go  a  step.  That's  flat,"  said  Cora,  who 
could  be  obstinate  enough  when  she  tried. 

"  That's  sharp,  you  mean,"  said  Charlie.  "  I  see 
Syd  is  going  to  relieve  you  of  all  responsibility  on 
account  of  inefficiency.  You  take  after  your  pa, 
Codak." 

"  Jen  must  take  it  for  me,  then,"  said  Syd. 

"  I  won't!"  said  Jen. 

Syd  looked  at  her  fixedly. 


36  THE   MAN   WITH   THE   HOE. 

"If  you  force  me  to  take  it,  I'll  throw  it  in  her 
face !"  cried  Jennie. 

"  I  won't  go  either,"  said  Cora,  bracing  herself 
against  the  wall  with  arms  firmly  locked  behind  her. 
"  I'm  tired  of  doing  things  that  she  won't  do." 

Charlie  was  appealed  to. 

Charlie  wouldn't  go.  If  he  went  (grasping  the 
extension  table  upon  which  he  was  perched),  that  table 
would  go,  too.  He  guessed  Clem  was  the  right  one 
to  send.  Clem  evinced  his  unwillingness  to  oblige  by 
hiding  in  the  kitchen. 

"  Well,  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  ever  saw  such  a  family !" 
cried  poor  Syd,  in  despair. 

"  We're  unique,  that's  flat,  as  Cora  says,"  said 
Charlie,  highly  enjoying  the  situation.  "  Give  it  up, 
Syd,  an'  let's  divide  around.  It  would  make  pretty 
good  cuttin'  after  all  the  fuss." 

"  She'd  think  it  odd  for  me  to  take  her  .supper  up 
to  her  room,"  mused  Syd;  "but  I've  got  to  go  if  no 
one  else  will." 

"  Yes,  Syd,  you'd  better  go,"  cried  the  irrepressible 
Charlie,  stretching  himself  out  flat  on  the  extension 
table,  with  his  face  on  one  arm  and  a  queer  little 
twinkle  in  his  bright  eyes.  "  You  might  thus  get  into 
her  good  graces  (as  the  stranger  walked  off  with  the 
silver  candlestick  in  grandad's  reader)  and  win  her  — 
money  an'  marry  her.  Then  you  could  pay  off  the 
mortgage  an'  send  us  kids  to  college.  We'll  never 
learn  any  manners  here,  with  a  mortgage  hangin'  low 
enough  over  us  to  rub  us  bald-headed." 


PROCURING  REFRESHMENTS  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES.      37 

"Hold  your  tongue,  Charlie,  Your  pertness" — 
Syd  could  hardly  speak.  He  thought  if  Charlie  were 
his  son,  how  differently  the  boy  should  address  him. 
"  Marry  my  step-sister !  Pooh '  You  don't  know  what 
you  are  talking  about,"  he  went  on,  sharply.  Yet  they 
all  observed  that  his  color  rose. 

Ed  had  pushed  the  door  partly  open  and  was  regard- 
ing him  with  a  lowering  glance.  He  now  strode  into 
the  room  and  caught  hold  of  the  tray. 

"  ///  take  this  up  to  her,"  he  said,  hoarsely.  "  I 
don't  know  which  is  the  worst,  bad  dealing  or  double- 
dealing.  You're  all  a  rocky  set,  you  are,  ax  to  grind, 
or  no  ax." 

"  Stop !  Explain  yourself !"  exclaimed  Syd.  "  Do 
you  mean  to  hint  that  I've  been  kind  to  your  sister  from 
interested  motives  ?" 

"  I  do  that.  You  know  she'll  have  money  when  she 
marries.  I  ought  to  have  half  of  it,  but  I'll  never  get 
a  penny  of  it,  and  you  —  curse  you  !  —  expect  to  scoop 
the  whole  pile." 

The  color  had  died  out  of  Syd's  cheeks  and  left  him 
in  one  of  his  white  rages,  before  which  even  Jennie 
trembled. 

"Ed  Fairfax,  you  lie!"  he  said.  "If  it  were  not 
for  that  girl  upstairs,  I'd  make  you  eat  your  words,  you 
scoundrel !" 

Ed  set  the  tray  upon  the  table  and  faced  about,  livid 
with  passion. 

"Oh,  I'm  a  scoundrel  and  liar,  am  I?  And  'that 
girl  upstairs'  would  be  a  nobody  if  you  had  not  set 


38  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

yourself  to  work  to  get  her  money.  You  threatened  to 
thrash  me,  too,  a  while  ago.  Well,  to-morrow  morning, 
when  we  go  out  to  work,  we'll  settle  accounts." 

"All  right,  sir.  Only  don't  first  prime  yourself  with 
bad  whisky,  for  I  won't  fight  either  a  madman  or  a 
drunken  fool." 

Ed's  nostrils  quivered.  A  sort  of  convulsion  passed 
over  his  face.  Then  like  a  flash  he  caught  up  the  knife 
that  lay  on  Lele's  plate. 

"  Take  that  back,  you,  or  I'll  cut  your  

heart  out!''  he  shouted.  Little  Tude  screamed  and 
ran  instinctively  toward  her  favorite,  Syd,  while  even 
Clem  and  Charlie  appeared  somewhat  concerned.  Cora 
began  to  sob  in  wishy-washy  terror,  but  Jennie  relieved 
the  situation  by  stepping  up  behind  Ed  and  catching 
his  uplifted  arm. 

"  Don't  disgrace  yourself  and  the  family  any  fur- 
ther, for  pity's  sake,  Ed,"  she  said,  in  tones  of  scorn, 
which,  for  once,  fell  like  cold  water  on  fire.  "And  as 
for  you,  Syd,  if  you  had  one  spark  of  manliness,  you 
would  keep  out  of  a  fight  to-night." 

Ed  turned  his  dull  eyes  moodily  upon  her,  but  he 
dropped  the  knife,  and  Syd,  too,  turned  away. 

"  You  begun  it." 

"  I  know  it,  and  I  bitterly  regret  it,"  Jennie  spoke, 
in  a  stifled  voice,  shaking  with  resolutely  repressed  sobs. 

Syd  went  out  on  the  porch  at  that,  for  it  somehow 
brought  a  lump  into  his  throat  to  see  Jennie  so  per- 
turbed. And  in  his  own  consciousness  he  felt  utterly 
depressed. 


PROCURING  REFRESHMENTS  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES.       39 

"  This  whole  world  is  as  black  as  hades !"  he 
thought,  "and  I  am  the  most  miserable  dog  in  it." 

Ed  also  left  the  room,  and  presently  they  heard  him 
stumbling  upstairs  through  the  dark. 

"  He'll  fall  down  and  smash  everything,  and  she'll 
starve  after  all,"  said  Cora,  tearfully. 

"  Maybe  cut  his  throat  with  the  knife  or  gouge  his 
eyes  out  with  the  fork,"  added  Tude,  whose  eyes  were 
round  with  apprehension. 

"  Or  still  more  likely,"  from  Charlie,  "run  a  spoon 
into  his  ear  and  split  his  brain  into  four  hemi-demi- 
spheres  instead  of  two.  Clem,  my  son,  art  thou  not 
also  one  of  the  prophets?" 

Jen's  voice  had  the  old  impatient  ring  when  she 
exclaimed : 

"  Charlie  Fairfax,  how  often  have  I  told  you  not  to 
sit  on  that  table?  You  know  you'll  likely  break  the 
casters." 

"  I  don't  know  exactly  how  often,"  Charlie  replied ; 
"but  if  you  go  to  hittin'  me  with  the  broom,  I'll  give  a 
bounce  that  will  shatter  ever'  caster  into  beads,  sure  as 
shootin'." 

"  Charlie,  get  up,"  said  Jennie,  half-entreatingly. 
"  I'm  so  tired  I'm  fairly  sick  I  want  you  to  get  to 
bed  and  give  me  a  little  peace." 

"  No  use.  There's  that  girl  upstairs  to  make  you 
tired  in  the  morning,"  drumming  on  the  table  just  to 
hear  Jen  say  it  made  her  nervous.  Charlie  dearly  loved 
to  tease  his  irritable  sister. 


40  THE;  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE;. 

"  Jen,  you  forgot  to  salt  the  butter,"  suggested  Cora, 
in  the  midst  of  the  odious  drumming. 

"  Oh,  botheration !  There's  always  something  left 
undone.  It  will  just  have  to  go." 

"  There's  none  for  breakfast." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  salt  it,  then.  Where's 
the  dairy  salt  ?" 

"  Can't  prove  it  by  me,"  said  Cora,  yawning. 

"  Oh,  you  never  know  anything !" 

"  Code's  brain  power  is  thunderous  little,"  said 
Charlie.  "  Only  one  remove  from  idiocy." 

"  Lucky  you've  got  brains  to  spare,"  said  Cora,  with 
perfect  good  humor.  "  The  only  trouble  is  that  you've 
got  too  much  brain  for  one  an'  not  enough  for  two." 

Jennie  put  a  stop  to  the  talk  by  saying: 

"  Cora,  you  go  upstairs  and  put  Tude  to  bed  while  I 
salt  the  butter.  You  boys,  go  too.  I  want  the  lamp." 

Syd  now  came  in  off  the  porch  with  the  inquiry: 

"  Ed  come  down  yet  ?" 

"  No." 

"What  the  dicks  is  keeping  him  so  long?" 

"  Don't  know ;  telling  her  everything  he  knows, 
probably.  You  would  be  wise  to  go  to  bed  without 
saying  anything  more  to  him  to-night." 

"  Thanks.  Superfluous  advice  is  selling  at  a  low 
figure,  Jinsey ;  market  glutted." 

While  Jennie  was  salting  the  butter,  Syd  came  clown 
to  the  cellar  and  sat  on  an  empty  barrel  watching  her. 
Suddenly  he  burst  out : 


PROCURING  REFRESHMENTS  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES.      4! 

v 

"  I  say,  Jinks,  there's  got  to  be  a  new  order  of  things 
about  this  house." 

"  So  you  say  fifty  times  a  year.  Much  good  it  does 
to  say  it." 

"  This  confounded  wrangling  must  be  stopped,"  get- 
ting up  and  walking  nervously  about.  "  It's  enough 
to  drive  a  man  mad  to  have  so  much  blamed  worry  out 
of  doors  and  in,  too.  It  really  is.  I  tell  you  I  can't 
bear  it." 

"  Well,  how  is  it  on  a  girl  ?  Do  you  think  it  par- 
ticularly pleasant  to  see  you  boys  quarrel  the  way  you 
do?  Drunk  or  sober,  you  are  equally  ready  to  fly  into 
a  passion  at  the  least  provocation." 

"  Be  exact,  young  lady.  /  am  never  drunk,"  he 
spoke,  haughtily. 

"  The  only  reason  you  don't  drink  is  because  you 
hate  the  taste  of  liquor." 

"I  have  no  principles,  then?" 

"  Principles,  I  guess,  wouldn't  hold  you  long  in 
check  if  you  wanted  to  drink." 

"  Jen,  you're  the  kind  of  sister  to  drive  a  fellow  into 
dissipation,"  replied  Syd,  moodily.  "  You  never  give 
one  of  us  credit  for  anything  good.  If  we  are  better 
in  some  respects  than  others,  it  is  because  we  are  made 
so,  and  can't  be  different.  Believe  me,  Jennie,  if  I 
don't  drink  even  hard  cid>?r,  it  isn't  because  I  don't  like 
it.  I  like  the  taste  of  it  too  well.  You  know  from 
whom  I  inherited  it,  perhaps." 

Jennie  was  silent.     Her  father  had  died  before  she 


42  THE   MAX    WITH    THE    HOE. 

could  remember,  but  people  had  told  her  that  it  was 
drink  that  did  it. 

"  I've  tried  to  do  right  for  —  her  sake.  You  might 
have  helped  me  more,  Jinsey." 

The  girl's  head  sank.  She  knew  he  was  referring 
to  his  dead  mother,  whom  he  had  deeply  loved.  Life 
seemed  to  have  gone  all  wrong  with  both  of  them  since 
her  death,  two  years  ago. 

"  Well,  Syd,  I  am  mean,  I  know,  but  it  is  chiefly 
because  I  am  so  disheartened,  and  have  so  little  to  live 
for.  And  it  doesn't  seem  right  for  other  girls  to  be  so 
happy  while  I  " — 

Two  great  tears  splashed  on  the  rude  table  beside 
the  butter  bowl.  Jennie  bit  her  lips  until  they  bled  to 
keep  them  from  quivering,  as  she  pounded  the  solid 
Jersey  butter,  sending  little  sprinkles  of  brine  all  over 
Syd's  coat.  He  withdrew  a  few  steps,  mindful  that 
his  Sunday  coat  was  not  likely  to  appear  less  seedy 
after  a  baptism  of  buttermilk  and  salt. 

"  I  know,  Jinsey,"  he  said,  gently,  "that  your  life 
has  not  been  bright.  Neither,  for  that  matter,  has 
mine.  But  what  good  comes  of  all  this  wrangling  in 
one's  family?  I  like  peace  at  home,  and  no  home  can 
ever  be  peaceful  without  a  sweet-tempered  woman  to 
smooth  matters  and  preserve  the  domestic  ecviilibrium. 
If  mother  had  only  lived !" 

"  It  isn't  my  fault  that  I  am  incapable  of  filling  her 
place,  Syd.  I  was  born  with  the  fiery  McKnight  tem- 
per, while  you  are  far  more  like  mamma  than  I  can 
ever  be.  Though  I'm  sure  von  would  make  a  bad  iob 


PROCURING  REFRESHMENTS  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES.     43 

of  controlling  Ed,  if  he  was  thrown  entirely  on  your 
hands." 

"  I  admit  that ;  but,  my  dear  Jenkins,  won't  you 
try,  if  only  for  a  week,  to  be  —  milder  ?  The  way 
you  have  acted  this  evennig  toward  Lele  was  perfectly 
dreadful." 

Jean  replied  doggedly  that  "  Lele  didn't  seem  very 
friendly.  She  could  see  at  a  glance  that  she  meant  to 
walk  over  her  (Jennie)  first  chance  she  got." 

"  Oh,  Jenkins !  You  are  perpetually  seeing  un- 
friendly people  who  are  trying  to  walk  over  you.  Did 
you  ever  meet  a  pretty  girl  that  you  liked?  Now,  be 
honest  about  it.  Did  you?" 

"  If  you  think  Lele  Fairfax  a  pretty  girl,  I  com- 
mend your  taste !" 

"  Your  taste  would  have  been  best  displayed  by 
meeting  her  with  sisterly  kindness,  and  giving  her  the 
welcome  home  she  had  a  right  to  expect." 

"  You  would  have  greeted  her  with  a  kiss,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

"  Yes ;  if  I  had  been  a  girl,  I  should." 

"  Perhaps  you  did,  out  in  the  lane." 

"  I  might  have  done  so,  for  she  took  me  for  Ed. 
Sorry  now  I  didn't.  I  may  never  have  the  opportunity 
again." 

"Silly  boy!" 

"  It  would  be  very  pleasant  to  have  such  a  sweet- 
looking  girl  presiding  over  one's  home." 

"  What  would  the  gossips  say  ?" 

"  Don't  know,  cr  car?  —  much." 


44  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

"  Yes,  you  do  care.  A  man  or  woman  who  will 
marry  just  for  money  —  as  you  would  if  you  married 
Lele  —  is  beneath  anybody's  contempt." 

"  Your  philosophy  is  all  right,  Jinsey,  but,  as  the 
world  goes,  awfully  out  of  date.  There's  Mr.  Markley, 
now,  who  wants  you  for  a  wife.  He's  got  a  lot  of 
money.  You'd  be  better  off  with  him  than  you  ever 
will  here,  for,  as  I've  heard  you  say,  single  women  are 
nobodies,  and  so,  for  that  matter,  are  single  men. 
There  is  no  happiness  on  earth  away  from  one's  own 
fireside." 

"  I  wonder  what  happiness  you  think  there  would 
be  for  me  by  Mr.  Markley's  fireside !" 

"  You'd  soon  get  used  to  the  sight  of  his  bald  head 
and  broken  nose,  and  eventually  regard  him  as  the 
dearest  " — 

"  Bargain  I  ever  bought.  No,  thank  you.  One 
mercenary  marriage  in  a  family  is  quite  enough." 


CHAPTER  V. 

ED. 

When  Ed  reached  the  open  door  of  his  sister's 
room,  he  saw  her  kneeling  before  one  of  the  open  win- 
dows, and  thought  at  first  that  she  was  crying.  With 
an  inward  oath  he  wished  he  had  stayed  away,  for  of  all 
things  he  detested  cry-babies  worst;  and,  besides,  was 
it  his  fault  that  she  was  ill  treated?  Why  didn't  she 
stay  away,  anyhow?  She  might  have  known  nobody 
wanted  her.  He  felt  bitter  toward  her  himself,  because 
she  had  inherited  money  half  of  which  ought  to  have 
come  to  him.  He  had  not  intended  to  stand  up  for 
her  rights  at  first,  and  had  it  not  been  that  every  slur 
cast  upon  her  seemed  partly  a  reflection  on  himself, 
he  would,  perhaps,  have  resented  her  intrusion  more 
strongly  than  any  of  them. 

While  these  thoughts  flashed  through  his  mind,  his 
sister  rose  and  turned  to  him  with  a  startled  glance, 
which  quickly  gave  place  to  an  expression  of  delight. 

"  Why,  Ed,  how  did  you  ever  think  of  bringing 
me  my  supper?"  she  cried,  in  a  voice  so  sweet  and  full 
of  gratitude  that  Ed  was  softened.  "  Thank  you,  ever 
so  much." 

Ed  mumbled  bashfully: 

(45) 


46  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

"  I  'lowed  you  hadn't  had  any  supper,  maybe. 
Where'll  I  set  this  tray?" 

Lele  took  it  from  him,  saying  brightly : 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  brought  it,  for  I'm  perfectly 
ravenous." 

"Hope  there'll  be  enough,"  said  Ed,  moving  irres- 
olutely toward  the  door.  "  It's  nothin'  but  a  snack." 

"  Lunch,  he  means,  I  suppose,"  thought  Lele. 
"Yes,  indeed;  thank  you.  How  nice  of  you  to  fix  it 
up  for  me,  Ed.  Boys  are  not  apt  to  be  so  thoughtful. 
But  I  suppose  the  girls  did  it." 

"  Not  much  they  didn't,"  burst  out  Ed.  "  They 
don't  take  a  little  bit  of  a  shine  to  you,  Lele." 

"  I'm  sorry."  There  was  the  brightness  of  unshed 
tears  in  the  brown  eyes,  but  no  decided  indications  of  a 
scene  such  as  Ed  feared.  Her  calm  way  of  accepting 
the  situation  suited  him  exactly. 

"  Tell  me,  while  I  eat  my  supper,  what  I've  done," 
she  added. 

"  You've  got  some  sense,  I  see,"  he  replied ;  "  an' 
bein'  as  you've  got  sense  —  even  if  you  arc  a  seminary 
girl  —  I  don't  mind  tellin'  you  that  you've  got  into  a 
hornet's  nest." 

"What  have  I  done  to  merit  being  stung?"  asked 
Lele,  helping  herself  to  some  of  the  contested  jelly. 

"  It's  no  difference  whether  you've  done  anything. 
Jen  don't  like  you,  an'  she  rules  the  roast  at  Fairfax 
farm." 

"Indeed!" 


ED.  47 

"  There's  one  fellow  that  won't  stand  her  rulin' 
much  longer,  confound  her." 

"  Whom  do  you  mean,  Ed  ?" 

"  Why,  I  mean  me,  by  gosh !  I'm  tryin'  not  to 
swear,  Lele,"  he  added,  apologetically,  "but  I'll  swan 
if  the  way  things  go  here  ain't  enough  to  make  a 
preacher  swear.  By  jing!  she's  a  tyrant." 

"  What's  the  matter  between  you  and  Jean,  Ed.?'* 

"  She  doesn't  like  me  'cause  I'm  no  kin  to  her,  an', 
by  gum !  she  never  misses  a  chance  to  give  me  a  dig 
with  that  infernal  long  tongue  of  hers.  Pretty  soon  I 
intend  to  cut  stick." 

"  Cut  what?" 

"  Clear  out,  vamoosh,  skeedaddle ;  put  a  thousand 
miles  of  thin  air  between  myself  an'  this  dog-onned  ole 
farm,"  explained  Ed,  lucidly. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?" 

Ed  gave  a  short  laugh. 

"To  the  ole  Nick,  I  expect.  I  might  as  well  be 
there  as  here." 

"  I  should  think  you  would  find  the  difference  con- 
siderable," said  Lele.  "  You  ought  to  be  thankful 
you're  alive." 

"  I'm  not,  though."     Ed  looked  moody  and  sullen. 

"How  strange  you  should  all  be  so  unhappy!" 
mused  the  girl.  "  I  have  always  fancied  it  would  be 
the  sweetest  thing  on  earth  to  have  brothers  and  sisters 
to  confide  in  and  help.  But  for  my  aunt's  opposition 
to  the  idea,  I  would  have  tried  to  establish  friendly 
relations  with  you  all  long  ago." 


48  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

"  She  must  have  been  an  old  screw,"  commented  Ed. 

"  She  was  the  dearest  friend  I  ever  had,"  said  Lele, 
impulsively.  "I  miss  her  inexpressibly,  and  never  more 
than  —  to-night."  The  red  lips  trembled,  but  Lele 
valiantly  battled  with  the  tears,  and  kept  them  back. 

"  I  'low  you'll  be  kind  of  uncomfortable  here,"  said 
Ed,  shifting  from  one  foot  to  the  other.  "  We're  like 
Cats  an'  dogs.  But  what's  the  odds?  I  won't  be  here 
long,  an'  neither  will  you,  if  you're  smart." 

"  Ed,  do  tell  me  where  you  think  of  going?" 

"  No  matter.  Eat  your  supper  an'  don't  bother 
your  head  about  me." 

"  But  I  just  will  bother  my  head  about  you.  You're 
the  only  real  brother  I've  got  in  this  world,  and  I  want 
you  to  know  I  love  you.  I  want  you  to  prosper,  too, 
and  be  happy." 

"  You're  very  kind,"  said  Ed,  whose  heart  for  a 
moment  felt  a  thrill  of  tenderness  for  this  sweet,  new- 
found sister. 

"Do  you  like  farming?" 

"  No,  I  don't.    By  gum,  I  hate  it  worse  than  snakes !" 

"  What  do  you  like  —  machinery  ?" 

"  What  made  you  guess  that  ?" 

"  I  heard  it  in  some  way.  Now,  if  you  are  sure  you 
can't  make  a  successful  farmer" — 

"  Successful  farmer!  I  rather  guess  not.  I  saw  a 
picture  of  a  man  with  a  hoe  once  that  seemed  just  about 
the  most  discouraged  lookin'  dog  I'd  seen  lately.  He'd 
been  hounded  to  his  tasks  till  he  hadn't  hardly  sense 
enough  to  go  in  when  it  rained.  I  said  then  that  before 


THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE 

AFTER    MILLET 


ED.  49 

I'd  turn  out  such  a  specimen,  I'd  split  my  head  open." 

Lele  smiled  at  this  naive  confession,  and  asked : 

"  Then  why  don't  you  educate  yourself  as  a  civil 
engineer  or  machinist?" 

"  Why  don't  Jack  eat  his  supper  ?"  growled  Ed. 

Lele  looked  mystified. 

"  I  mean  you  can't  buy  an  education  with  a  pocket 
full  of  burdock-burrs.  You've  got  to  have  money,  an' 
we've  had  none  ahead  since  I  can  remember." 

Lele  pondered,  eating  very  slowly. 

"  Couldn't  you  work  your  way  somehow  ?"  she 
finally  asked. 

"  I've  got  no  chance,"  said  Ed,  bitterly. 

"A  boy  can  make  opportunities  if  he  will." 

"  Pap  won't  let  me  oft,"  said  Ed.  "  He  says  I've 
got  to  nigger  here  on  this  ole  place  till  I'm  twenty-one. 
I'd  rather  be  in  the  Black  Hole." 

"Andrew  Johnson  never  learned  to  read  fluently 
until  after  he  was  twenty-one ;  and  he  found  time  after 
that  to  discharge  the  duties  of  President.  I  think 
there's  hope  for  you,  Ed.  And  remember,  a  boyhood 
spent  on  the  farm  is  often  the  best  foundation  for  a 
successful,  honorable  manhood.  He  is  almost  sure  to 
be  kept  away  from  the  temptations  that  assail  city  boys." 

Ed  became  crimson.  He  wondered  what  she  would 
think  when  she  discovered  that  he  had  formed  about  all 
the  bad  habits  a  fellow  can  pick  up  anywhere. 

"  I  guess  I'll  go,"  he  said,  in  desperation,  for  he 
felt  as  if  he  were  being  impaled. 

"  No,  wait  and  get  the  tray.     I'm  not  through  tnlk- 

(4) 


5O  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

ing,  Ed."  Her  tone  became  more  confidential.  "  I'm 
only  a  woman,  and  can't  expect  to  do  much  to  make  a 
stir  in  the  world.  But  I  do  so  much  want  to  be  the 
sister  of  a  great  man,  such  as  Morse  or  Edison  or  Eli 
Whitney,  for  instance.  A  man  who  invents  a  cotton- 
gin  or  sewing  machine  is  as  truly  great  as  one  capable 
of  electrifying  Congress,  or  the  world,  for  that  matter, 
with  his  eloquence.  If  it  were  all  summed  up,  I  doubt 
not  that  Elias  Howe  outranked  Henry  Clay  in  use- 
fulness." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  Ed. 

"  Lincoln  at  twenty-one  was  a  rail-splitter,  with  no 
more  apparent  chance  for  Presidential  honors  than  you 
have.  What  carried  him  to  the  White  House,  elevated 
Stephenson  above  common  artisans,  and  gave  Elihu 
Burritt  the  name  of  'Learned  Blacksmith'  ?" 

"  Brains,"  said  Ed,  shortly.     "  I've  none." 

"  Then  your  skull  is  filled  with  air  and  not  with 
gray  and  white  matter.  I  assure  you  the  shape  of  it 
is  fine.  Didn't  you  learn  arithmetic  all  right?" 

"  Yes,  and  that  was  every  d —  (excuse  me)  thing 
I  could  learn.  Everybody  thinks  me  stupid.  Father 
tells  with  a  sneer,  every  chance  he  gets,  that  I'm  fit 
only  for  farming,  and  not  half  fit  for  that." 

"Even  fathers  are  sometimes  mistaken  in  estimating 
a  child's  abilities,"  said  Lele,  calmly.  "  Ed,  tell  me 
truly,  haven't  you  a  fondness  for  mechanics?" 

"  I've  fooled  with  wheels  a  good  deal,"  he  admitted, 
as  though  forced  to  confess  something  of  which  he  was 
half  ashamed.  "  But  I've  never  made  'em  work  right. 


ED.  51 

Nothing  ever  does  for  me.  I'm  a  sort  of  crooked  six- 
pence. Sometimes  I  wish't  I'd  fell  in  the  fireplace  an' 
burnt  up  'fore  I  was  a  year  old.  Then  I'd  have  been 
out  of  the  way  for  good  an'  all."  He  looked,  now, 
pitiably  despondent. 

"  Don't  say  such  things,  Ed.  You're  young  yet  — 
only  eighteen.  Walter  Scott's  prospects  for  fame 
were  small  indeed  when  he  was  your  age.  Don't  you 
remember  how  he  was  considered  the  dunce  of  his 
school  ?" 

"  I  thought  he  was  a  genius,"  said  Ed,  sullenly. 

"  Genius  often  lies  dormant  for  many  a  year.  You 
may,  yourself,  possess  it  in  some  form.  Only  your  vis- 
ionary, who  dreams  his  life  away,  amounts  to  nothing." 

"  Work  is  one  of  the  things  I  hate,"  said  Ed.  "And 
so  would  you  if  you  had  much  of  it  to  do." 

"  I  expect  to  do  quite  a  good  deal  of  work  in  my 
time,  Ed,"  said  Lele,  smiling.  "  Busy  people  are  the 
happiest,  and  I  have  never  yet  seen  an  idle  person 
whose  imaginary  woes  were  not  harder  to  bear  than 
the  real  ones  of  the  worker.  Money  alone  is  worth  far 
less  to  any  man  than  work  and  patience  and  a  fixed 
purpose  in  life." 

The  gleam  of  intelligence  that  brightened  strangely 
the  boy's,  dull,  opaque  face  showed  that  there  was  a 
better  nature  within  which  could  be  roused. 

"  I  might  study  to  be  a  machinist,"  he  began,  "if  I 
had"-  — but  stopped  short  before  he  reached  the  word 
"money,"  set  his  teeth  in  his  under  lip,  and  scowled. 
The  momentary  brightness  left  his  face.  His  bitter- 


52  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

ness  against  the  sister  who  had  inherited  the  sum  that 
would  have  rendered  him  independent  returned,  and 
with  it  his  anger  against  Syd.  He  gazed  moodily  out 
at  the  glimmering  stars  that  shone  through  the  tree 
tops,  and  was  silent. 

"  I'll  help  you  all  I  can,  Ed,"  said  Lele,  in  a  tone 
full  of  sweet,  sympathetic  cadence. 

"You  can't  if  you  marry  —  him." 

"Whom?" 

"  Syd." 

"Syd!" 

"  Precisely." 

"  Who  suggested  such  a  preposterous  thing?" 

Ed  swallowed  one  or  two  scruples  ere  he  replied: 

"  He's  fairly  spread  himself  this  evening  tryin'  to 
make  Jin  an'  everybody  treat  you  well  so  you  will  stay. 
And  when  Charlie  accused  him  to  his  face  of  angling 
for  your  money,  he  colored  up  and  hadn't  the  grace  to 
deny  it." 

Lele  fortunately  had  finished  her  supper.  After  this 
she  could  not  have  eaten  another  morsel. 

"  He'll  never  marry  me,"  she  said,  looking  both  hurt 
and  angry. 

"All  girls  are  fools,"  declared  Ed;  "seminary  girls 
worse  than  any  other.  If  he'd  ask  yon  to  marry  him, 
so  he  could  get  your  money  to  help  pay  off  the  mort- 
gage, you'd  think  it  romantic  to  do  it.  And,  by  gum, 
you  would  be  sold !" 

"He'll  never  dare  ask  me!"  cried  Lele,  glowing 
with  anger. 


ED.  53 

"  I  suppose  I  shouldn't  have  told  you,"  said  Ed, 
relenting-.  "  But  I  wasn't  going  to  have  you  walk  into 
a  trap  blindfold." 

"I  am  sorry  he  is  so  dishonorable,"  said  Lele,  stiffly. 
"  I  should  never  have  suspected  it." 

"  I  didn't  suppose  you  had  much  penetration ;  girls 
never  have.  They  need  somebody  around  to  look  after 
their  interests.  And  I  guess  if  I  don't  look  after  yours, 
you'll  be  left  for  a  protector.  Father  will  be  dead  sure 
to  favor  your  marrying  Syd  if  he  sees  the  fellow  wants 
you.  He  always  is  in  for  somebody  to  pay  his  debts 
for  him,  no  odds  how  or  who.  He  was  awfully  cut  up 
when  Maud  St.  John  wouldn't  have  Syd,  because  the 
St.  Johns  have  money,  and  could  have  helped  him." 

"  Syd  wanted  to  marry  Miss  St.  John !" 

"Well,  I  should  think  so  —  rather!  She  used,  to 
like  Syd  before  she  went  to  boarding-school,  but  her 
head  was  so  full  of  'high  society,'  when  she  got  home, 
that  she  couldn't  find  a  thought  for  old  Syd.  He  took 
it  awful  hard,  and  if  he  ever  marries,  it  will  be  as  much 
to  show  Maud  that  she  isn't  the  only  girl  in  the  world 
as  anything  else." 

Ed  mercifully  interrupted  his  flow  of  eloquence  here 
and  hurried  away,  but  with  this  parting  remark : 

"  Hope  you'll  sleep  well,  Lele.  A  man  committed 
suicide  in  this  room  once,  and  they  say  he  still  — • 
walk*  P 


CHAPTER  VI. 
LELE'S  FIRST  DAY  AT  THE  FARM. 

Syd  had  been  sincere  in  repelling  Charlie's  sugges- 
tion about  marrying  Lele  for  her  money ;  he  had  never 
until  that  moment  thought  of  such  a  thing,  and  the 
anger  roused  by  Ed's  accusation  was  perfectly  genuine. 
But  as  Charlie  spoke  it  had  occurred  to  him,  almost 
with  the  force  of  an  electric  shock,  that  the  most  per- 
plexing question  of  his  life  might  thus  be  solved.  Here 
was  a  fresh-hearted,  unsophisticated  young  girl,  just 
out  of  school,  having  been  purposely  kept  out  of  society 
until  her  education  should  be  completed.  He  did  not 
suppose  she  had  ever  had  a  lover ;  he  knew  she  had 
inherited  just  the  sum  of  money  he  needed  to  make  him 
master  of  this  farm,  to  give  him  standing  among  his 
neighbors,  and  help  him  toward  lifelong  independence. 
Resentment  against  Ed  only  strengthened  the  impres- 
sion already  formed,  and  after  the  quarrel,  which  might 
have  resulted  seriously  had  not  Jean  interfered,  he  had 
almost  resolved  upon  a  course  of  action. 

His  prospects,  as  he  felt,  were  desperately  bad,  and 
for  years  had  been  growing  worse,  rather  than  better. 

The  farm  was  heavily  mortgaged,  and  what  with 
bad  seasons,  bad  tenants,  and  injudicious  management 
on  the  part  of  his  step-father,  Syd  had  never,  with  his 

(54) 


FIRST  DAY  AT  THE  I-ARM.  55 

utmost  efforts,  been  able  to  save  anything  for  himself. 
Only  to  keep  the  interest  and  taxes  paid  was  a  heavy 
drain  on  his  resources.  I/ong  ago  it  had  become  fully 
apparent  that  Mr.  Fairfax  would  never  be  able  to  repay 
the  $5,000  he  had  borrowed  from  his  thrifty  neighbor, 
Silas  Collins.  And  since  the  farm  must  be  sold  sooner 
or  later,  Syd  had  cherished  a  secret  hope  of  buying  in 
the  place  himself.  But  even  at  the  early  age  of  twenty- 
one  he  had  become  convinced  that  he  could  not,  ham- 
pered as  he  was,  expect  to  earn  enough  in  a  lifetime 
here  to  buy  a  farm  ;  a  bitter  disappointment,  for  he  had 
grown  deeply  attached  to  the  home  his  mother's  pres- 
ence had  hallowed,  and  which  he  and  Jennie  had  done 
so  much  to  beautify.  He  could  not  bear  to  see  it  pass 
into  the  hands  of  such  a  man  as  Si  Collins.  The  only 
hope  he  now  had  was  to  borrow  money  enough  to  buy 
it  in,  living  the  rest  of  his  life,  perhaps,  under  the 
shadow  of  a  mortgage ;  past  experience  made  him 
shrink  from  that. 

Then  came,  quite  suddenly,  the  subtle  temptation: 
"  Why  not  marry  a  woman  with  money  enough  to  buy 
it?"  Lele  had  money  enough,  he  knew;  and  why  not 
marry  her,  if  she  could  be  won? 

Syd  was  hampered  by  a  rash  promise  that  he  had 
made  to  his  dying  mother  —  an  agreement 'never  to 
abandon  her  children  until  they  were  able  to  sustain 
themselves.  She  had  commended  them  to  his  care 
rather  than  to  that  of  Mr.  Fairfax,  the  latter  being 
notoriously  improvident. 

After  Jean  went  upstairs  that  night,  Syd  put  on  his 


56  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

cap  and  sauntered  down  the  road  toward  St.  John's. 
It  was  a  cloudless  summer  night,  and  soft  airs  were 
blowing  over  the  meadows  on  either  hand,  sweet  with 
the  perfume  of  white  clover.  He  thought  of  nights 
like  this  when  he  had  walked  with  Maud  under  the 
stars,  in  the  happy  days  when  she  was  a  school  girl, 
not  much  better  off  than  himself,  and  well  content  to 
have  him  by  her  side.  A  legacy  from  a  rich  uncle  and 
boarding-school  life  together  seemed  to  have  turned  the 
girl's  head.  He  was  nothing  to  her  now. 

There  was  a  pretty  white  house  just  ahead.  That 
was  where  Maud  lived.  He  passed  it  walking  slowly, 
his  eyes  strained  for  a  glimpse  of  her.  From  the  parlor 
windows  beamed  a  rosy  light.  The  hall  door  stood 
open.  There  were  some  young  people  on  the  veranda, 
and  he  heard  the  sound  of  gay  voices  and  merry  laugh- 
ter. He  went  on  moodily,  with  his  head  down.  Sud- 
denly he  paused  and  listened.  Among  the  voices  on 
the  veranda  he  could  distinguish  that  of  Ward  Collins, 
once  his  dearest  friend,  now  his  dearest  foe.  He  hur- 
ried on  with  long  strides,  breathing  in  the  scented 
summer  air  in  deep  breaths.  Out  of  "  earshot  "  he 
paused  again  and  looked  back  longingly,  then  he  went 
on  again.  Not  many  months  ago  he  had  been  a  fre- 
quent visitor  at  the  St.  John's ;  but  he  never  went  there 
now.  He  had  some  time  during  the  previous  winter 
awoke  to  the  fact  that  a  man's  worldly  prospects  figure 
very  prominently  sometimes  in  an  affair  of  the  heart. 
Since  that  disheartening  discovery  he  had  paid  Maud  no 
more  visits ;  but  it  would  have  elated  the  little  coquette 


FIRST  DAY  AT  THE   FARM.  57 

» 

could  she  have  known  how  frequently  she  had  been  in 
his  thoughts,  notwithstanding. 

That  he  had  lost  all  faith  in  Maud  mattered  little. 
He  could  net  forget  that  she  had  been  his  ideal.  Syd 
had  never  cared  to  "  go  with  the  girls,"  as  the  other 
young  men  of  his  age  did.  And  he  was  generally 
thought  to  be  completely  indifferent  to  the  fair  sex. 
Men  of  his  type,  however,  find  life  without  love  all  but 
impossible.  When  one  idol  is  shattered,  they  set  up 
another.  But  their  worship  is  often  so  secret  that  the 
object  of  it  is  unconscious  of  her  supremacy.  Worldly 
status  is  of  first  importance  in  the  eyes  of  these  con- 
servative men.  If  they  can  not  attain  what  they  deem 
"independence"  in  money  matters,  they  never  marry, 
notwithstanding  their  domestic  tastes,  and  the  heart- 
hunger  that  is  with  them  always. 

On  his  way  home  to-night  Syd  observed  two  figures 
bending  over  the  gate  at  St.  John's.  Maud's  laugh 
softly  echoed  the  coaxing  tones  of  W'ard's  voice.  Then 
Syd  heard  him  kiss  her.  He  nearly  ran  to  get  out  of 
their  presence,  the  blood  beating  in  his  ears. 

When  he  got  home  that  night  he  sat  down  on  the 
top  step  of  the  veranda,  first  picking  up  absently  a 
violet-scented  lace  handkerchief  which  Lele  must  have 
lost.  He  held  the  dainty  snow-white  thing  which  her 
little  hand  had  crushed,  but  not  soiled,  a  moment,  and 
then  laid  it  carefully  on  a  chair  behind  him.  He  did  not 
care  to  entertain  certain  thoughts  of  Lele  in  the  pres- 
ence of  anything  that  reminded  him  so  vividly  of  her 
sweet  and  trusting  nature.  He  \vould  gladly  have  for- 


58  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

gotten  the  girl  while  he  considered  plans  for  obtaining 
her  money. 

The  hours  went  by  as  he  sat  there  thinking  —  nine, 
ten,  eleven,  twelve,  one!  Still  the  wind  whispered 
"peace"  among  the  lofty  tree  boughs,  and  honeysuckles 
shook  their  perfumed  bells  above  him.  But  there  was 
no  peace  for  him.  Only  a  blind  rage  that  he,  who,  of 
all  men,  wished  to  keep  his  honor  bright,  must  stoop  to 
such  petty  knavery  as  he  was  planning.  He  hated 
himself  for  it,  hated  the  life  he  was  forced  to  live, 
and,  above  all,  hated  his  step-father  for  wasting  the 
inheritance  which  should  have  come  to  him  and  Jean. 

The  clock  on  the  sitting-room  mantle  chimed  two, 
and  Syd  rose  and  went  upstairs.  But  even  then  the 
dawn  was  breaking  before  he  slept.  He  did  not,  as 
usual,  look  at  his  mother's  picture.  Rather  he  avoided  it. 

At  breakfast  he  had  that  guilty,  constrained  feeling 
which  a  naturally  honest,  straightforward  man  feels 
when  acting  for  the  first  time  from  unworthy  motives. 
He  thought  Lele's  manner  a  trifle  cool;  still  she  was 
perfectly  polite,  though  at  times  when  his  eyes  met  hers 
she  reddened  as  if  with  anger,  or  some  feeling  near 
akin  to  it. 

Probably  Ed  had  bstrayed  him. 


Notwithstanding  the  evening's  experiences  and  her 
disturbing  talk  with  Ed,  Lele  was  so  tired  that  she 
fell  asleep  almost  as  soon  as  her  head  touched  the 
pillow.  To-morrow  would  be  soon  enough  to  lament 


FIRST   DAY    AT   TH£   FARM.  59 

over  family  troubles  and  reflect  upon  the  unwelcome 
insinuations  concerning  Syd. 

For  a  moment  or  two  after  waking  she  lay  among 
her  pillows  in  thoughtless  comfort,  rubbing  her  eyes 
drowsily  and  still  fancying  herself  at  the  seminary, 
listening  for  the  rising  bell.  Then  as  she  grew  wider 
awake,  she  looked  up,  and  saw  opposite  the  unfamiliar 
east  window,  through  which  the  summer  dawn  came 
rosily.  She  felt  strangely  disturbed  in  mind,  though 
she  could  not  at  first  recall  just  what  had  occurred  to 
distract  her  peace.  Then  remembering  that  she  was 
in  her  old  home,  she  buried  her  face  in  the  pillow  with 
a  long-drawn  sigh.  Thousands  of  times  she. had  pic- 
tured waking  up  in  the  lovely,  care-free,  soul-reviving 
country  to  the  tune  of  song-sparrows,  Pennsylvania 
mocking-birds,  and  a  whole  galaxy  of  sweet,  winged 
singers.  She  had  been  warned  many  times  not  to  miss 
the  daybreak  concert  in  the  tree  tops,  but  now  —  what 
sound  smote  her  ear?  It  was  like  unto  the  frying  of 
a  thousand  beefsteaks,  only  the  sound  was  wafted 
downward  rather  than  up.  She  sprang  to  the  window 
imbued  with  the  fear  that  the  roof  was  in  flames  and 
every  shingle  crackling.  The  mystery  was  quickly 
explained.  Innumerable  blackbirds,  that  had  sought 
shelter  in  the  big  elm  trees  near  her  window,  were  bid- 
ding each  other  "  good-morning  "  in  tones  that  could 
aptly  be  likened  to  the  snipping  of  all  the  sheep-shears 
in  that  part  of  the  State,  intermingled  with  the  frying 
of  at  least  a  whole  vilhge  full  of  sizzling  steaks  and 
chops.  Lele  hastily  closed  the  window  and  plunged 


OO         .  THE   MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

back  into  the  billowy  feather-bed,  with  her  fingers 
thrust  into  her  ears. 

"  Ye  gods  and  little  fishes !"  she  thought ;  "  the  very 
birds  of  Fairfax  farm  are  in  a  racket."  Then  she 
began  to  laugh,  and  feeling  very  much  as  though  there 
might  be  a  stove  foundry  in  full  blast  somewhere  under 
that  voluminous  canopy,  she  got  out  and  opened  the 
window  again.  Instantly  a  whole  swarm  of  black- 
birds, that  seemed  just  ready  for  breakfast,  flew  up 
into  the  sky  like  bees,  sending  a  black  shadow  across 
the  window  as  they  ascended  with  a  whirr  of  wings 
like  the  roar  of  an  express  train.  Not  a  song-bird  of 
any  kind  could  be  seen  or  heard. 

"  Disillusion  No.  2,"  thought  Lele ;  "  discomforts 
do  exist  in  the  country  as  well  as  in  the  town  —  most 
unexpected  ones,  too.  Whoever  would  have  thought 
of  the  very  birds  becoming  a  nuisance !" 

Now  that  her  thoughts  came  back  to  the  events  of 
the  previous  evening,  she  recalled  her  conversation  with 
Ed,  and  how  Syd  had  figuratively  tumbled  off  the 
pedestal  she  had  reared  for  him.  She  felt  for  him  an 
uncontrollable  repugnance. 

"And  I  thought  him  so  nice,  too !"  she  mused. 
"  How  kind  and  considerate  he  seemed !  One  little 
knows  what  an  act  is  worth  until  one  knows  the  motive 
that  prompted  it.  Willing  to  marry  just  anybody,  is 
he?  since  his  girl's  gone  back  on  him.  Oh,  if  Aunt 
Roxy  could  have  lived  to  hear  that !" 

It  occurred  to  her  that  Syd  might  find  out  that  he 
had  been  betrayed,  and  would  show  her  only  brotherly 


FIRST  DAY   AT   THE  FARM.  6l 


attentions  at  first,  or  even  treat  her  with  assumed  indif- 
ference, in  order  that  he  might  "  catch  her  heart  in  the 
rebound."  So  she  resolved  to  treat  him  exactly  as  she 
did  the  rest,  and  not  let  him  suspect  that  all  his  schemes 
had  been  discovered. 

"He's  a  very  ordinary  looking  fellow,"  she  reflected, 
consolingly.  "  I'll  be  in  no  danger  of  falling  in  love 
with  him,  I  guess,  though,  I've  had  so  few  beaux  in 
my  time  that  I'm  pretty  susceptible.  But  I  like  his 
looks,  and  there's  something  fascinating  in  his  manner. 
Is  it  his  apparent  strength,  his  easy  figure,  or  the  chiv- 
alrous way  he  looks  at  you  from  under  his  straight, 
dark  brows?  I  don't  know.  I  do  know,  however, 
that  if  "  - 

The  breakfast  bell  rang.  Lele  went  down.  There 
was  no  one  visible  to  show  her  to  the  dining-room,  and 
she  paused  irresolutely  at  an  open  door,  through  which 
she  heard  voices.  One  was  Syd's,  speaking  angrily: 

"Jen,  why  don't  you  go  up  and  bring  her  down? 
It's  unpardonable  to  leave  her  to  find  her  way  alone. 
Do  show  her  that  much  courtesy." 

"  She'll  find  her  way  easily  enough,"  said  Jennie, 
sharply.  "  This  house  is  not  a  labyrinth  ;  and  as  for 
courtesy,  you'll  be  less  gallant  yourself  when  you  find 
she's  engaged  to  some  one  else." 

Lele,  determined  to  hear  no  more,  advanced  through 
the  sitting-rocm,  and  in  a  moment  found  herself  in  the 
presence  of  the  brother  and  sister  who  had  been  dis- 
cussing her.  The  breakfast  table  was  set  ;  Jennie,  with 
a  plum  brnnch,  was  keeping  off  the  flies,  and  Syd  was 


62  THE;  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE. 

leaning  on  the  mantle  twisting  a  lamp-lighter  between 
nervous  fingers.  He  flushed  up  to  the  roots  of  his  hair 
as  his  eyes  met  Lele's,  perfectly  aware  that  she  had 
heard  Jennie's  last  remark.  But  he  did  not  utter  a 
word  of  greeting  until  after  Jennie,  with  a  cold  "  Good- 
morning,"  disappeared  in  the  kitchen ;  then  he  con- 
trived to  express  a  hope  that  she  had  slept  well  and 
experienced  no  inconvenience  from  her  long  walk. 

"  I  slept  very  well,  thank  you,"  said  Lele,  cheerfully, 
though  her  cheeks  were  burning,  too,  "  and  experienced 
no  inconvenience  —  until  the  blackbirds  woke  up." 

"  The  miscreants  roosted  in  the  elms  last  night,  did 
they?  I  have  been  driving  them  from  pillar  to  post 
for  weeks,  but  they  seem  to  get  bolder  and  more  numer- 
ous every  day.  All  our  song-birds  are  leaving  us 
because  of  them." 

"  Breakfast  is  ready,"  said  Jennie,  tersely.  "  Sit 
down,"  and  again  she  vanished  into  the  kitchen,  bring- 
ing back  with  her  some  hot  biscuits  and  a  plate  of  fried 
ham. 

Lele  had  intended  to  enliven  the  breakfast  hour  by 
giving  a  humorous  account  of  the  impressions  produced 
on  her  mind  by  the  blackbirds,  but  found  it  impossible. 

A  vexed,  disappointed  expression  had  settled  upon 
Jennie's  face  when  she  saw  that  Lele  had  chanced  to 
seat  herself  by  Syd,  rather  than  Ed,  where  there  was  a 
vacant  place  evidently  reserved  for  her  guest.  Nothing 
was  said,  but  that  one  glance  took  all  the  flavor  out  of 
the  ham  and  made  her  feel  as  if  the  biscuits  would 
choke  her. 


FIRST  DAY  AT  THE  FARM.  63 

"  Evidently  she  doesn't  encourage  romantic  notions 
on  either  side,"  thought  Lele.  "  She  doesn't  want  me 
in  her  family  under  any  circumstances.  And  do  I  seem 
to  be  angling  for  Syd?  Heaven  forbid  that  anything 
so  foreign  to  my  intentions  should  appear  possible !" 

No  one  seemed  inclined  to  talk.  Ed  had  sat  sulky 
and  preoccupied  from  the  first ;  the  little  boys  never 
opened  their  mouths  except  when  their  elbows  moved, 
and  Lele  felt  that  conversation  under  that  Gorgon  eye 
of  Jean's  was  out  of  the  question. 

Finally  curiosity  prompted  Charlie  to  inquire  the 
meaning  of  a  little  silver  cross  which  she  wore. 

"  It's  the  emblem  of  my  Order,"  said  Lele,  smiling. 
"  I  am  a  King's  Daughter." 

"  What  in  the  world  is  it  for  —  the  Order,  I  mean?" 
asked  Cora,  addressing  Lele  for  the  first  time. 

"  Just  to  encourage  people  to  do  little  things  every 
day  to  make  each  other  happy." 

Silence  again.  A  smile  of  pure  amusement  hovered 
around  the  corners  of  Sycl's  mouth. 

"  I  think  we'll  all  have  to  join  the  Order,"  he  said, 
looking  mischievously  at  Jennie,  who  turned  her  head 
aside  with  a  gesture  of  disdain. 

"  For  pure  rudeness  Jennie  takes  the  ribbon  every 
time,"  thought  Lele;  "she's  'one  of  'em'  that  I've 
always  heard  of,  but  never  expected  to  see.  May  her 
tribe  decrease." 

Every  one  was  relieved  when  Jennie  gave  the  signal 
for  rising.  The  boys  trooped  off  toward  the  barn,  the 
girls  to  the  kitchen,  and  Lele,  not  knowing  exactly  what 


64  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE 

to  do  with  herself,  went  out  to  the  veranda,  feeling 
completely  lost. 

"I  feel  like  Alice -in  Wonderland,"  she  thought; 
"and  the  animals  get  curiouser  and  curiouser.  I  should 
not  be  surprised  if  they  would  bundle  me  into  a  passing 
carriage  and  send  me  back  to  the  station  this  morning. 
If  they  do,  I  shall  never  be  able  to  face  Sophie  Howard 
again.  It  would  be  too  mortifying.  I  believe  if  they 
attempt  to  get  rid  of  me  by  force,  that  I'll  kick  like  the 
mischief,  to  use  one  of  Sophie's  dreadfulest  phrases. 
But  the  question  is,  Am  I  as  strong  as  all  of  them? 
Perhaps  not,  but  I  mean  to  put  up  the  best  fight  I  can." 

She  walked  around  looking  at  the  flowers  and  talk- 
ing to  the  cats  and  chickens  to  keep  her  heart  from 
going  clear  down  into  her  boots. 

"  Oh,  just  think  of  Lele  Fairfax  marrying  Syd 
McKnight  and  living  here !"  she  kept  saying  to  herself. 
"  Why,  I  should  be  dead  or  petrified  in  less  than  six 
months." 

Footsteps  were  heard  in  the  hall.  She  looked 
around  and  saw  Ed  approaching,  walking  as  usual, 
mostly  on  his  heels  and  jarring  the  whole  house. 

"  Say,  Lele,  I  expect  you  think  I  was  sort  of  snaggy 
at  breakfast,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  meant  to  be  apologetic. 
"  I  'lowed  to  be  pleasanter,  but  Jinks,  confound  her ! 
put  me  all  out  o'. whack." 

"  How,  my  dear  boy  ?" 

"  Oh,  no  odds !"  snapping  off  some  honeysuckle 
buds  and  throwing  them  away  impatiently.  "  She 
swooped  upstairs  an'  eavesdropped,  I  guess.  Jen's  got 


FIRST  DAY  AT  THE  FARM.  65 

an  awful  spite  at  you  some  way,  and  you'd  best  keep 
out  of  her  track.  Don't  offer  to  do  anything,  or  you'll 
have  a  racket  on  your  hands,  that's  all." 

"  Never  mind  about  me,  Ed ;  I'll  get  along,"  said 
Lele,  easily.  "All  I  ask  is  that  you  won't  quarrel  with 
Syd  while  I'm  here." 

"You're  afraid  he'll  get  hurt,"  said  Ed,  suspiciously, 

"  No ;  I  sized  you  both  up  this  morning,  and  it's  my 
opinion  that  Syd  could  knock  you  out  in  one  round, 
perhaps  kill  you  with  a  blow.  And,  Ed,  I'd  so  much 
rather  not  attend  a  trial  while  I'm  here.  I  hate  trials." 

Ed  laughed. 

"  I'll  get  you  up  some  other  amusements,  then," 
he  said. 

"And  if  you  want  to  learn  a  trade,  remember  I'll 
help  you  all  I  can." 

He  went  away  looking  brighter,  but  if  the  truth 
must  be  told,  very  far  from  attractive.  Lele  could  have 
wept,  now  that  she  saw  him  in  the  broad  light  of  day, 
when  she  realized  how  coarse,  how  lacking  in  refine- 
ment, he  was.  Every  trace  of  the  dimpled,  fair-haired 
child  had  been  lost  in  the  rough,  uncultured  youth. 
She  felt  that  it  would  be  really  hard  for  even  her  to 
love  such  a  brother,  and  did  not  so  much  blame  Jennie. 
Nothing  but  the  grace  of  God  could  make  two  such 
natures  harmonize  in  the  daily  family  intercourse.  And 
yet  Lele  pitied  him  unspeakably.  If  she  could  only 
make  something  of  him  after  all ! 

She  felt  very  solitary  this  morning.  The  girls  were 
too  busy  to  talk  to  her,  it  seemed,  and  she  felt  almost 
(5) 


66  THE  MAN   WITH   THE  HOE. 

afraid  in  the  big,  empty  rooms.  She  kept  thinking  of 
her  father,  wondering  why  he  did  not  come  home.  Did 
he  know  what  a  reception  she  would  receive?  Did  he 
care?  Would  he  treat  her  as  the  others  did?  Was 
she  nothing  to  him  either?  Lele  had  expected  to  stay 
at  least  several  weeks,  but  this  morning  she  made  a 
•resolve  in  sober  earnest  to  cut  it  down  (or  up,  if  Jen 
summoned  a  carriage!)  to  ten  days.  This  was  one. 
There  would  be  nine  more  to  endure.  Nine  solitary 
days  among  unfriendly  people ;  nine  dreadful  nights  in 
the  haunted  chamber;  three  times  nine  fearful  meals 
with  that  Gorgon-like  girl  presiding  over  the  teacups ! 

The  prospect  sickened  her.  Ignoring  Ed's  advice, 
she  went  down  stairs  again,  resolved  at  all  hazards  to 
establish  friendly  relations  with  Jennie ;  otherwise  life 
here  would  be  unendurable. 

Meanwhile  Cora,  up  to  her  elbows  in  dishwater, 
'was  saying: 

"  Jin,  what  made  you  look  so  queer  when  she  took 
the  plate  next  to  Syd  this  morning?" 

"  Oh,  you  know  well  enough,"  said  Jennie,  who  was 
bending  over  the  hot  stove  with  flame-colored  cheek. 
"  I'd  fixed  a  plate  for  her  over  by  Ed,  an'  put  a  scoured 
knife  for  her  to  eat  with.  But  I  forgot  to  tell  her 
which  place  to  take,  and  she  got  the  wrong  one,  of 
course.  It  always  happens  so !" 

"  I  noticed  she  had  an  old  black  knife,  one  of  them 
run-off  ones,"  said  Cora,  "  and  thought  you  had  given 
it  to  her  a-purpose.  Do  look  at  that  fly-trap,  Jin !  It's 
as  full  as  it  can  stick,"  dabbing  her  hands  in  the  water, 


FIRST  DAY  AT  THE  FARM.  67 

( / 

quite  unmindful  of  the  flight  of  time  and  of  the  number 
of  utensils  yet  unwashed. 

"  Never  mind  the  fly-trap,"  cried  the  elder  sister, 
impatiently.  "  Why  don't  you  hurry  up  and  get 
through,  so  you  can  go  talk  to  her  ?  I  never  saw  any- 
body as  slow  as  you  are." 

"Why  don't  you  go  in,  then,  if  you're  so  fast?" 
drawled  Cora. 

Jennie  flew  hither  and  thither  trying  to  do  two  or 
three  kinds  of  work  at  once  in  order  to  make  up  for 
Cora's  slowness. 

"  You  know  I  never  have  a  minute  to  sit  down  until 
after  dinner,"  she  said,  nervously.  "  Do  go  'long  an' 
put  on  another  dress,  so  you'll  be  fit  to  be  seen.  It  dis- 
tracts me  to  have  you  poking  around.  I  believe  I  can 
do  more  work  when  you're  not  with  me." 

"  I  wish  I'd  known  that  long  ago,"  said  Cora.  "I've 
tired  myself  dreadfully  tryin'  to  help  you,  Jinsey," 
rather  wistfully. 

"  I  don't  think  you  are  likely  to  cripple  yourself 
with  hard  work,"  said  Jennie.  "  But  now  I  wish  you'd 
go  in  an'  show  her  your  quilt,  or  do  something  to  keep 
her  from  pokin'  her  nose  into  everything.  Hang  her! 
I  wish  I  knew  when  she  was  goin'  away." 

"Hush!  she's  out  on  the  back  porch,  an'  I'll  bet 
you  a  cookie  she's  heard  every  word,"  whispered  Cora. 

Jennie  turned  scarlet  with  vexation.  Her  dislike 
for  Lele  increased  when  she  thought  the  latter  had 
overheard  her  ungracious  wish.  In  reality  Lele  had 
not  distinguished  a  word,  though  she  knew  as  soon  as 


68  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

she  saw  the  two  girls  that  they  had  been  talking  about 
her.  And  she  unconsciously  added  to  Jennie's  ire  by 
saying : 

"  Girls,  haven't  you  something  I  can  do  ?  I'm  used 
to  being  busy,  and  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with 
myself." 

"  She  wants  to  let  us  know  that  she  notices  we 
haven't  got  time  to  talk  to  her,"  thought  Jennie,  resent- 
fully. So  she  said,  coldly: 

"  No,  thank  you ;  we  don't  need  any  help.  If  you 
want  something  to  read,  I'll  get  you  a  book."  She 
paused  as  though  struck  by  a  sudden  thought,  and 
added :  "  Ed  has  a  good  many  books  and  papers  in  his 
room.  I'll  show  you  the  room,  and  you  can  ^t  what 
you  like  best ;"  then  with  a  little  chilly,  derisive  smile, 
"  but  don't  disturb  the  wheels." 

Lele  did  not  like  to  intrude  upon  the  privacy  of  her 
brother's  room,  but  thinking  he  would  not  be  offended 
if  she  left  everything  as  she  found  it,  she  followed 
Jennie  upstairs. 

Like  Syd,  Jen  walked  splendidly,  with  her  shoulders 
thrown  back  and  her  head  erect.  There  was  something 
truly  dramatic  in  her  attitude  as  she  threw  open  the 
door  of  her  brother's  apartment  and  pointed  scornfully 
within. 

"  I  want  you,  if  you  can,  to  tell  me  how  to  turn  this 
Purgatory  into  a  Paradise,"  she  said,  and  Lele  saw 
large  tears  glisten  for  a  moment  in  the  flashing  dark 
eyes  as  the  discouraged  young  housekeeper  turned 
away. 


FIRST  DAY  AT  THE  FARM.  69 

It  was  a  curious  apartment,  half  workshop,  half 
bedroom,  and  indescribably  disorderly.  There  was  no 
carpet,  no  wall  paper ;  neither  curtain  nor  blind  to  shade 
the  windows,  though  an  old  coat  was  stretched  half  way 
across  one  window,  and  a  piece  of  rag  carpet  served  as 
a  screen  for  the  other. 

In  one  corner  of  the  room  was  a  four-post  cedar  bed- 
stead, infirm  with  age.  The  bed-clothes  were  ragged, 
the  linen  soiled,  the  floor  littered  with  shavings  and 
scraps  of  old  iron.  Wheels  were  everywhere,  inter- 
mixed with  boots  and  shoes,  books,  papers  and  tools. 
A  well-bred  pig  would  not  have  been  pleased  with  such 
untidy  quarters.  And  who  was  to  blame  for  it  but  the 
woman  who  permitted  such  a  den  to  exist  unmolested 
in  her  house  ?  Lele  blamed  Jennie,  very  naturally,  and 
resolved  to  give  her  an  object  lesson  in  "  redding  up  " 
that  would  open  her  eyes. 

It  did  Lele  good  to  clean  up  that  room.  How  she 
worked!  After  the  windows  were  thrown  open  to 
admit  the  pure  air,  and  the  bed  made  to  look  a  little 
less  repulsive,  she  concluded  to  hang  up  the  scattered 
clothing  and  arrange  things  in  some  sort  of  order. 
And  when  the  floor  had  been  swept  and  the  dust  re- 
moved, the  place  looked,  if  not  attractive,  at  least  a 
little  more  like  a  human  habitation.  Lele  next  turned 
her  attention  to  the  various  works  of  art  which  deco- 
rated the  walls  —  pictures  of  ballet  girls,  actresses,  and 
various  gaudy  advertising  cards,  some  of  which  were 
hardly  fit  for  the  public  gaze,  and  all  in  questionable 
taste.  The  worst  ones  she  took  down ;  from  the  others 


70  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

she  turned  with  disgust.  Next  she  examined  the  piles 
of  reading  matter  that  had  accumulated  in  dusty  heaps 
about  the  room  —  stacks  of  Police  Gazettes,  Saturday 
A"/ 'ghts,  and  other  papers  of  a  sensational  type.  All 
sorts  of  pamphlets  advertising  machinery,  works  on 
telegraphy,  phrenology,  mechanics,  etc.  And  scattered 
everywhere  were  flashy,  yellow-backed  novels,  with 
illustrations  hardly  suited  to  a  lady's  eye.  Among  the 
whole  collection  she  found  but  two  standard  works,  a 
ragged  and  soiled  St.  Elmo  and  an  Uncle  Tout's  Cabin, 
yellow  with  time,  tattered,  thumb-marked  and  dog- 
eared. Both  of  these  she  had  read,  and  she  had  now 
no  desire  to  re-peruse  them.  The  exhibition  of  Ed's 
literary  taste  appalled  her.  Did  her  father  know  what 
Ed  was  reading?  When  she  left  the  room  her  hopes 
of  reclaiming  him  were  low  indeed. 

In  the  upper  hall  she  found  Jennie  just  leaving 
Syd's  room  with  a  broom  and  dust-pan  in  her  hand. 
She  motioned  to  Lele  to  look  within.  And  again  there 
was  something  dramatic  in  her  gesture,  something  that 
said  as  plain  as  words,  "  Look  on  that  picture,  and  now 
on  this !" 

Lele  glanced  in,  expecting  a  great  difference  in  the 
furnishing,  but  saw  little.  The  floor  was  also  bare, 
the  walls  whitewashed,  and  only  cheap  shades  at  the 
curtainless  windows ;  but  everything  was  in  the  most 
exquisite  order. 

A  lady's  bedroom  could  not  have  been  more  neat 
and  pure.  Everything  was  in  its  place ;  no  dust  any- 
where ;  no  scattered  papers ;  no  questionable  illustra- 


LELES   FIRST  DAY   AT   THE   FARM.  /I 

tions.  The  bed-covers  were  whole,  the  pillows  snowy, 
and  the  painted  floor  shone  with  wax.  In  Ed's  room 
were  pipes  and  cigar  stumps  and  decks  of  greasy  cards  ; 
none  here.  In  contrast  to  Ed's  reading  matter  stood  a 
neat  bookcase,  filled  with  well-worn  books  on  a  wide 
range  of  subjects,  but  all  by  standard  authors.  In  the 
lower  shelves  were  files  of  papers, —  chiefly  political, 
farm  and  home, —  each  in  its  labeled  pigeon  hole.  And 
above  the  mantel  hung  the  only  picture  in  the  room,  the 
portrait  of  a  beautiful  woman.  It  was  a  fascinating 
face ;  one  never  tired  of  looking  at  it.  Its  beauty  was 
striking,  but  the  chief  charm  lay  in  the  expression  of 
the  eyes,  and  of  the  firm,  yet  gentle  mouth,  appealing  to 
the  finer  traits  of  one's  character,  and  thus  wielding  an 
influence  for  good,  as  a  rose  jar  sends  out  perfume  long 
after  the  sweet  petals  are  faded. 

"  What  a  lovely  face !"  exclaimed  Lele.  "  It  does 
me  good  only  to  look  at  it." 

"  Mamma's  picture,''  explained  Jennie,  looking 
away.  "  Syd  likes  to  have  it  where  he  can  see  it  the 
last  thing  at  night  and  the  first  thing  in  the  morning. 
He  says  it  makes  a  better  man  of  him.  And  I  believe 
it  does.  Syd  favors  mamma,  I  think." 

A  tear  for  the  gentle  mother  she  missed  so  sorely 
momentarily  dimmed  the  brightness  of  her  hard  black 
eyes. 

"  He  does,  in  expression,"  assented  Lele,  sympa- 
thetically. "  How  nice  you  keep  his  room,  Jennie." 

"  I  spend  but  little  more  time  on  it  than  I  do  on 
Ed's.  Syd  keeps  things  in  order  himself  mostly,  and 


72  THE    MAN    WITH    THE;    HOlv. 

Ed  swears  so  dreadfully  when  I  clean  up  his  room 
and  misplace  anything  that  I've  given  up  trying  to  do 
much  there." 

"  The  pictures  have  their  influence,  too,"  mused 
Lele. 

"  Yes ;  but  you  couldn't  get  Ed  to  keep  any  better 
ones.  His  tastes  are  —  disgusting !" 

"  Ed  says  he's  slept  under  nothin'  but  strings  ever 
since  he  can  remember,  an'  he  knows  that  ole  bedstead 
came  over  in  the  Mayflower,"  piped  up  Tude,  from  the 
head  of  the  stairs. 

Jennie  made  no  reply,  but  gave  the  child  a  glance 
that  would  have  sent  her  flying  downstairs  did  looks 
possess  projectile  force. 

Later  in  the  morning  Cora  and  Tude  made  some 
half-way  friendly  overtures  to  Lele  by  showing  her 
their  quilt  pieces,  but  the  day  dragged  wearily  enough. 
No  one  had  much  to  say  at  dinner.  Even  Syd  was 
taciturn,  and  Lele  imagined  from  the  scowl  on  Ed's 
brow  that  the  two  boys  had  been  quarreling  again. 
The  afternoon  was  duller  than  ever.  Lele  could  have 
enjoyed  an  afternoon  nap  if  screens  had  banished  the 
flies.  As  it  was,  she  was  obliged  to  take  a  book  and 
sit  on  the  lawn  in  the  shade  in  order  to  keep  awake. 
The  view  was  better  worth  looking  at  than  her  book. 

The  lawn,  gently  sloping  from  the  house  to  the 
public  road,  was  quite  different  in  scope  and  appear- 
ance from  the  ordinary  farm  dooryard,  and  conse- 
quently the  envy  of  the  whole  country-side.  With  its 
sweep  of  velvet  turf,  its  clumps  of  shrubbery,  its  bor- 


FIRST  DAY   AT   THE   FARM.  -    73 

derecl  walks  and  rustic  seats,  its  roses,  lilies  and  honey- 
suckles, and  stately  trees,  that  seemed  to  have  been 
growing  since  the  days  of  William  Penn,  it  looked 
little  enough  like  the  abode  of  poverty  and  discord. 
Rather  like  the  country  home  of  some  wealthy  family, 
who  chose  to  spend  their  summers  "  far  from  the  mad- 
ding crowd's  ignoble  strife,"  contented,  happy  and  lux- 
urious. It  was  in  the  interior  of  the  house,  where 
everything  wras  worn  and  shabby,  and  in  the  farm 
fences  and  outbuildings,  that  the  tokens  of  poverty 
were  most  apparent. 

Back  of  the  house  lay  the  garden ;  to  the  west  was 
a  grassy  hillside,  on  top  of  which  was  the  family  burial 
ground,  where  the  ancestral  monuments  stood  out  in 
bold  relief  against  the  sky. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
How  THE  DAY  ENDED.. 

That  interminable  "first  day"  !  Would  it  indeed 
last  always?  Lele  seemed  to  live  fully  three  years 
between  the  matins  and  the  vespers  of  her  devout  colony 
of  blackbirds.  Now  they  were  silent  as  the  winking 
stars  in  the  firmament,  and  the  red  light  had  faded  from 
the  west.  It  was  dusk,  and  the  four  girls  sat  rocking 
on  the  veranda.  Across  the  clover  fields,  where  the 
fireflies  hung  like  sparks  of  light,  they  could  hear  the 
monotonous  "  Yip,  yip,  yip !"  of  Ol  Stuart's  captive 
dog  and  the  jingling  notes  of  a  piano  mixed  in  a  mel- 
ancholy discord.  Lele  kept  repeating  to  herself  as  she 
rocked :  "  Eight  more  sunsets.  Eight  more  evenings 
dedicated  to  barking  dogs  and  other  melancholy  sounds, 
that  would  have  enhanced  Milton's  fame  had  he  put 
them  into  //  Penscroso." 

Ed  was  gone  for  Lele's  trunks,  which  somehow 
added  to  her  load  of  depression.  When  he  proposed 
going  for  them,  she  felt  that  she  would  cheerfully  have 
given  all  her  income  for  the  next  two  years  for  a 
respectable  excuse  to  depart. 

Her  day,  notwithstanding  her  high  hopes  of  ren- 
dering herself  useful  in  the  old  home,  had  registered 
itself  on  the  failure  side  of  the  column.  Her  two 

(74) 


HOW    THE   DAY    ENDED.  75 

hours  spent  in  Ed's  room  had  reaped  a  rich  harvest 
of  oaths  from  that  youth,  who  had  nearly  knocked 
Jennie  down  for  "  tearing  up  Jack  "  in  his  room,  and 
appeared  but  little  mollified  by  hearing  that  it  was  Lele 
who  had  banished  some  of  his  most  scantily  attired 
ballet  girls  and  wrought  other  irrevocable  havoc  in  his 
sanctuary. 

"  D —  her,  if  she  can't  do  anything  but  '  tear  up 
Jack  '  in  my  room,  she'd  better  clear  out !"  she  heard 
him  say,  as  he  sprang  into  the  wagon  and  drove  down 
the  lane  at  breakneck  speed.  Lele  was  thankful  after 
all  that  she  was  not  going.  Her  bones  would  have 
been  proof  against  no  such  knocks  as  they  would  have 
received  from  the  road  wagon  in  the  hands  of  this  ill- 
tempered  Jehu.  She  began  now  to  believe  that  Sally 
Cahill  had  not  misrepresented  Ed  much ;  he  was  cer- 
tainly the  farthest  remove  from  "  angelic "  of  any 
person  she  had  ever  met. 

Mr.  Fairfax  had  not  yet  returned,  and  the  other 
boys  were  feeding  the  stock,  after  a  long,  hard  day's 
work  in  the  harvest  field. 

On  the  veranda  there  was  no  attempt  at  conversa- 
tion. Cora  and  Tude  waited  for  the  older  girls  to 
begin,  but  Lele  was  far  too  blue  to  open  a  cheerful  con- 
versation, and  Jennie  was  sullenly  silent. 

To  do  the  girl  justice,  she  wished  to  do  right,  but 
her  nature  seemed  disproportionate  to  her  surround- 
ings. She  was  like  a  young  leopardess  growing  up  in  a 
walled  garden,  whose  carefully  planted  flower-beds  she 
was  ruining  by  futile  attempts  to  escape  to  her  native 


76  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

wilds.  Ambitious  and  talented,  with  no  way  to  gratify 
her  ambition  or  develop  her  talents,  she  was  living  a 
life  of  repression,  that  was  crushing  out  all  her  nobler 
qualities.  She  did  not  know,  herself,  what  she  was 
fitted  for,  though  music  was  her  ruling  passion.  To 
be  a  great  singer  —  ah  !  that  would  be  life !  Jean  felt 
that  she  had  never  yet  lived.  And  until  she  could  live 
she  felt  that  she  dared  not  die.  Into  Eternity  she 
would  carry  with  her  this  mad  longing,  this  craving 
for  vigorous  action.  Oh,  for  emancipation  from  the 
petty  tyranny  of  the  Commonplace ! 

Without  a  better  education  than  she  possessed  she 
felt  that  she  never  could  accomplish  anything.  Why 
must  Lele  have  the  education  and  Jean  the  ability  to 
use  it  to  advantage? 

It  is  a  common  belief  that  if  one  can  not  be  useful 
in  a  narrow  sphere,  one  need  not  expect  to  be  useful  in 
a  wider  one.  But  is  it  not  also  true  that  some  natures 
need  expansion  to  fit  them  for  real  usefulness,  and  are 
dwarfed  and  distorted  by  close  and  long-continued 
processes  of  repression?  Jen's  was. 

None  knew  just  what  ailed  her.  She  had  been  a 
bright  and  happy  child  a  few  years  ago.  At  nineteen 
she  was  a  soured,  disappointed,  hopeless  woman.  All 
the  sweetness  of  a  naturally  generous  and  noble  nature 
seemed  to  be  turning  to  vinegar.  v; 

To-night  she  sat  in  ,1  wild  waste  of  thoughts  that 
surged  through  her  mind  so  fiercely  she  almost  feared 
they  were  audible  to  others.  Again  and  again  the  tide 
of  words  flowed  eloquently  to  her  lips ;  but  she  reso- 


HOW   THE  DAY   ENDED.  77 

lutely  forced  it  back,  fearing  that  her  own  aspirations 
would  be  betrayed  to  one  who  had  no  interest  whatever 
in  her  or  her  plans.  Mere  empty  gossip  had  no  place 
in  Jennie's  thoughts.  She  must  talk  from  the  heart, 
if  at  all. 

Lele,  meanwhile,  felt  sad  and  lonely.  She  would 
indeed  have  been  glad  of  a  friendly  shoulder  to  lean 
against  and  weep.  This  place,  so  melancholy,  these 
silent  sisters,  the  twilight  and  honeysuckles  and  far-off 
noises  of  the  night,  made  her  heart  ache.  If  they 
would  only  talk  to  her!  But  even  little  Tude  was 
mute  to-night. 

The  boys  came  trooping  through  the  hall  at  last 
and  sat  down,  Charlie,  as  usual,  assuming  a  recumbent 
position  on  the  floor,  with  his  heels  dangling  over  the 
edge  of  the  veranda.  "Charlie  will  never  injure  his 
spine  by  sitting  or  standing,"  his  father  sometimes  said, 
sarcastically. 

"  Why  don't  you  have  a  lignt?"  asked  Syd,  by  way 
of  saying  something.  Jean  replied  by  lighting  the  hall 
lamp.  No  one  spoke.  A  sheep-bell  tinkled  in  some 
distant  pasture,  and  a  piano  sounded  in  a  monotonous 
jumble  of  high  notes  across  the  fields  —  Maud's  piano. 

"  I'd  rather  hear  the  cackling  of  a  guinea  than  that 
old  thing,"  complained  Charlie,  covering  up  his  ears 
with  his  arms.  "  When  /  get  married,  I  won't  have 
a  piano  on  the  premises.  I  notice  the  practicing  at 
St.  John's  is  done  at  the  busiest  hours.  I  can  always 
tell  when  dinner  or  supper  is  a-nearin'.  There's  a  loud 
clash  of  music  that  lasts  until  the  bell  rings ;  and  after 


78  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

the  meal  is  over,  I  notice  it  begins  again  like  a  tornado, 
and  lasts  until  Mrs.  St.  John  hangs  up  the  dishpan  by 
the  kitchen  door." 

Syd  was  silent.  Visions  of  long  summer  mornings 
in  the  past,  when  he  was  working  on  the  far  side  of 
the  place  in  sight  of  St.  John's,  came  to  tantalize  him. 
Maud,  in  her  intervals  of  practicing,  used  to  sit  on  the 
vine-covered  veranda  and  crochet.  How  beautiful  she 
had  looked  in  her  white  dress  and  blue  ribbons,  bend- 
ing her  blonde  head  over  her  dainty  work,  while  her 
mother,  with  a  tired  look  on  her  worn  face,  was  toiling 
at  the  wash-tub  or  over  the  hot  kitchen  stove !  He 
did  not  think  of  it  then,  but  many  a  time  since  it  had 
occurred  to  him  that  white  hands  may  but  be  symbols 
of  selfishness,  and  music  but  one  way  of  idling  time. 

A  wagon  was  at  length  heard  approaching.  Syd 
listened  intently. 

"  Our  wagon,"  he  announced,  in  a  tone  of  relief. 
"  I  suppose  Ed  has  waited  for  father." 

The  wagon  stopped  at  the  outer  gate. 

"  Yes,  that's  Ed,"  Syd  reiterated.  "  Father  is  with 
him,  of  course." 

The  children  began  to  talk  among  themselves,  but 
Jean  walked  impatiently  to  the  end  of  the  veranda  and 
strained  her  ear  to  hear  the  opening  of  the  gate. 

Syd  sprang  down  off  the  veranda,  and  saying  some- 
thing in  an  undertone  to  his  sister  as  he  passed,  hurried 
down  the  lane.  They  could  hear  every  footstep,  each 
one  swifter  than  the  last. 


HOW  THE;  DAY  ENDED.  79 

"  Better  come  into  the  house,"  said  Jennie,  going 
in.  "  It's  getting  damp  out  there." 

The  two  boys  whispered  to  each  other  and  scram- 
bled to  their  feet,  while  Cora  shook  Tude  awake  and 
half  dragged,  half  carried  her  into  the  house. 

As  Lele  was  following  them  in,  wondering  as  to 
the  cause  of  the  commotion,  she  heard  Cora  say  to  her 
elder  sister: 

"  It's  just  like  him;  I'd  be  ashamed!" 

"  I'm  not  sure,"  said  Jennie,  in  agitated  reply, 
"  whether  Ed  is  in  the  wagon.  He  may  have  fallen 
out  and  been  run  over." 

Lele  waited  to  ask  no  questions.  Like  a  flash  she 
sped  through  the  veranda,  down  the  steps  and  out 
into  the  lane,  up  which  the  wagon  by  this  time  was 
approaching.  She  retreated  inside  the  little  gate  and 
waited. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  she  asked,  breathlessly. 

"  Oh,  nothing."  Syd's  tone  was  impatient.  "  Ed 
has  gone  to  sleep  and  father  has  not  come  home.  Go 
back  to  the  house,  please,  and  tell  Jen  to  bring  out  the 
lantern,  so  we  can  put  up  the  horses.  And,  Lele,  don't 
come  back  here.  We'll  attend  to  your  trunks." 

"  I  was  not  thinking  of  my  trunks,  sir,"  replied  the 
girl,  haughtily.  And  she  turned  to  deliver  his  mes- 
sage, but,  meeting  Jennie  and  the  others,  retraced  her 
steps. 

"  Jen,  hold  the  lantern  here,"  said  Syd,  in  an  agi- 
tated voice,  as  she  came  up.  "  I  don't  know  but  the 


80  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

trunks  may  have  crusted  his  skull.  No,  I  guess  he's 
all  right.  Don't  let  Lele  come  out  again.  Oh,  there 
she  is !" 

"At  least  tell  me  what  has  happened,"  implored 
Lele. 

Syd  sprang  down  from  the  wagon,  and  going  up 
to  her,  took  her  trembling  hands  in  his  with  a  quick 
impulse  of  sympathy,  though  his  cheek  burned  with 
shame. 

"  Lele,  I  hate  to  tell  you,  and  tried  to  get  you  back 
to  the  house  so  you  wouldn't  know.  Ed  has  come 
home  —  dead  drunk!" 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
SUNDAY  MORNING. 

Lele's  sleep  that  night  was  miserable  indeed.  Often 
she  would  start  up  nervously,  half  fancying  she  heard 
some  sound  of  a  supernatural  character.  Sometimes 
she  thought  she  heard  mysterious  rappings ;  once  a 
switch  seemed  to  tap  the  window  sharply ;  gusty  sighs 
appeared  to  emanate  from  the  closet ;  imaginary  sounds 
all  —  so  acute  is  the  sense  of  hearing  at  the  still  mid- 
night hour,  and  so  powerfully  are  ordinary  sounds 
magnified  by  excited  nerves. 

With  it  all  she  was  vaguely  uneasy  about  her  father. 
What  if  somebody  had  murdered  him  days  ago  ?  What 
if  he  had  disappeared  never  to  be  heard  of  more  ?  And 
poor,  misguided  Ed  !  Ah,  me ! 

Toward  morning  she  was  roused  by  the  loud  neigh- 
ing and  tramping  of  horses,  apparently  just  beneath 
her  window.  Running  to  see  what  was  the  matter, 
she  was  just  in  time  to  observe  in  the  bright  starlight 
three  or  four  horses  galloping  past  the  corner  of  the 
house.  One  of  them  slipped  on  the  pavement  and  fell, 
and  the  second  quite  turned  a  summersault  over  the 
fallen  steed,  which  gave  vent  to  a  shriek  that  curdled 
her  blood.  She  drew  back  shaking  with  fear,  for  she 
thought  both  were  at  least  fatally  crippled ;  but  the 

(6)  (80 


82  THE   MAN   WITH   THE   HOE. 

next  moment  they  were  on  their  feet  and  had  gone 
with  a  mad  rush  to  the  farther  end  of  the  lawn,  where 
they  stood  for  a  minute  or  two  squealing  and  kicking 
at  each  other,  and  then  came  back  at  a  gallop  straight 
for  the  parlor  window.  They  paused,  however,  before 
colliding  with  the  sash,  and  began  kicking  at  each 
other  in  such  good  earnest  that  every  blow  sounded 
as  if  a  bone  had  splintered.  The  whole  house  was 
roused.  Jen's  voice  was  heard  frantically  calling  for 
Syd  to  "hurry  up — the  horses  were  killing  each  other," 
and  in  a  very  short  time,  Syd,  with-  a  lantern,  appeared 
on  the  scene.  Whereupon  the  mischievous  imps  made 
a  charge  at  the  fence,  through  which  they  crashed  like 
cannon  balls,  and  then  went  careering  in  high  spirits 
down  the  lane.  It  took  Syd  quite  a  while  to  capture 
and  stable  them.  Nor  was  this  accomplished  without 
considerable  risk,  for  among  the  animals  was  a  very 
ill-tempered  mule  belonging  to  one  of  the  neighbors 
—  a  creature  noted  for  its  kicking  and  biting  propen- 
sities. And  the  horses  themselves  were  in  no  amiable 
mood.  Lele  experienced  a  good  deal  of  relief  when 
she  at  last  saw  Syd  come  back  unharmed,  swinging  the 
lantern  in  his  hand.  It  would  not  have  surprised  her 
much  if  he  had  been  killed.  "  Not  that  I  would  have 
broken  my  heart  over  him,"  she  reflected,  "  but  if  Syd 
must  be  killed  by  these  dreadful  creatures  I  should 
rather  it  occur  after  I  go  back  to  St.  Louis." 

She  fell  off  dozing,  and  in  her  dreams  saw  him 
mangled  in  a  chariot  race,  where  the  steeds  were 
stump-tailed  bay  mules. 


SUNDAY    MORNING.  83 

"  I  wonder  if  these  scenes  occur  often !"  she  said 
to  herself  on  waking.  "  One  vow  I  now  register  — 
never  to  marry  a  farmer  until  electricity  entirely  super- 
sedes horses." 

She  fell  off  dozing  again,  and  was  roused  by  the 
terrified  bellowing  of  cattle  —  one  of  them  having 
become  fast  in  some  way  out  in  the  barnyard,  which 
opportunity  another  seemed  to  have  taken  to  gore  it 
to  death. 

Syd  and  the  lantern  again  flashed,  meteor-like, 
across  the  lawn.  Shortly  afterward  Lele  registered 
another  vow,  viz : 

"  Never  to  marry  a  farmer  at  all.  City  people  have 
but  little  to  dread  but  fire  and  robbers,  and  those  sel- 
dom materialize.  But  this  stock-raising  I  could  not 
endure." 

About  daybreak  she  fell  into  a  heavy  sleep,  from 
which  she  was  roused  by  Cora,  two  hours  later. 

"  Pap's  got  home,"  Cora  said,  through  the  keyhole. 
"  You'd  better  hurry  down,  for  he  wants  to  see  you, 
an'  he'll  be  awful  mad  if  we  keep  breakfast  back  till 
his  coffee  gets  cold." 

"  What  good  will  my  life  resolution,  '  Never  meet 
trouble  half  way,'  do  me  if  I  allow  myself  to  worry 
about  trifles  as  I  have  since  I've  been  here?"  she 
thought.  "  It  isn't  like  me,  and  now  that  I  understand 
better  how  things  are  here  I  ought  not  to  feel  so  sen- 
sitive about  apparent  slights.  These  poor  creatures 
have  enough  to  bear,  what  with  their  kicking  horses, 


84  THE    MAX    WITH    THE    HOE. 

bawling  cows  and  "-  —  she  heaved  a  sigh  — "  such  a 
brother  as  poor,  pitiable  Ed." 

She  was  a  little  excited,  though  —  somewhat  pale 
and  shaken  —  when  she  found  herself  in  her  father's 
presence,  after  so  many  years. 

Mr.  Fairfax  was  habitually  well  dressed ;  a  fine- 
looking  man,  above  the  medium  height,  but  inclined 
to  stoutness.  His  dark  brown  hair  was  silvered  at  the 
temples,  and  his  flowing  beard  tinged  with  gray ;  but 
the  blue  eyes  behind  their  gold-rimmed  eye-glasses 
were  as  keen  and  bright  as  a  boy's.  His  face  had  the 
attractiveness  always  accompanying  regular  feattues 
and  intelligence. 

A  gentleman  in  the  accepted  sense  he  was — immac- 
ulate as  to  linen,  spotless  as  to  broadcloth,  courtly  in 
manner. 

He  was  seated  at  the  foot  of  the  table  absorbed  in 
a  newspaper  when  she  came  in.  Syd  touched  him  on 
the  shoulder  as  he  nodded  "  Good-morning  "  to  Lele. 

"  Here's  Lele,  father,"  he  said,  adding  to  her : 
"  You'll  have  to  speak  a  little  loud  to  him ;  he's  slightly 
hard  of  hearing." 

Mr.  Fairfax  at  this  deliberately  folded  his  news- 
paper, laid  it  beside  his  plate,  and  removing  his  gold 
eye-glasses,  held  out  his  hand  to  Lele. 

"And  this  is  my  eldest  daughter  grown  into  woman- 
hood," he  said.  "Do  you  remember  your  mother?  I 
can  see  you  resemble  her." 

"  Very  little,"  said  Lele,  in  answer  to  his  question. 


SUNDAY    MORNING.  85 

"  Sometimes  I  fancy  I  can  remember  things  that 
occurred  before  her  death ;  but  that  must  be  a  mistake. 
I  was  but  two  years  old  when  she  died." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  You  can  have  no  recollection  of 
her.  It  is  a  pity  your  aunt  kept  you  away  from  us 
so  much ;  you  and  Ed  should  not  have  been  separated." 
He  frowned  as  he  glanced  at  his  son's  empty  place. 
"  When  did  you  arrive  ?"  he  next  asked. 

"  Friday  evening.     I  sent  you  a  telegram  " — 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  which  seemed  to  be  a  favorite 
phrase  with  him — one  warranted  to  cut  short  any  other 
person's  loquacity  and  give  him,  what  he  dearly  loved, 
full  sway  with  his  tongue.  "  But  I  was  obliged  to 
leave  on  Wednesday,  and  found  business  so  pressing 
that  I  could  not  return  until  late  last  night.  I  knew 
the  folks  had  nothing  in  particular  to  keep  them  from 
entertaining  you  —  only  a  little  harvesting  on  hands; 
we  don't  farm  very  extensively  —  not  as  we  did  in 
my  father's  time." 

Syd  shot  an  odd  glance  at  Jennie,  and  bent  over 
his  plate  looking  flushed  and  indignant.  Mr.  Fairfax 
made  no  further  inquiries  about  Lele's  journey  —  did 
not  ask  about  her  graduation,  (strangely  enough  none 
of  them  had  mentioned  it!)  but  began  at  once  to  dis- 
course learnedly  upon  a  liquor  law  which  had  been 
passed  contrary  to  his  vote,  and  for  some  reason  was 
doing  more  harm  than  good.  Lele  listened  respect- 
fully, throwing  in  an  occasional  leading  question,  and 
the  rest  sat  in  silence,  apparently  taking  but  little 


86  THE   MAN   WITH   THE   HOE. 

interest  in  the  subject.  Occasionally  Jennie's  dark  eyes 
would  flash  and  kindle  and  her  lips  would  quiver  with 
some  repressed  speech ;  but  she  said  nothing. ' 

"  Now  with  regard  to  selling  liquor  to  minors,"  said 
Mr.  Fairfax,  addressing  Lele  as  though  she  were  a 
lawyer  of  mature  age,  and  ignoring  the  others,  "  there 
ought  to  be  a  law  prohibiting  any  minor  from  entering 
a  saloon.  Keep  a  man  out  of  saloons  until  he  is 
twentyrone,  and  ten  chances  to  one  he'll  never  be  a 
drinking  man.  It  is  drinking  whisky  when  he  is 
young  and  soft,  and  ready  to  believe  that  any  low  act 
is  a  manly  act,  that  spoils  him  for  life." 

"  Yes ;  but  how  would  you  keep  him  out  ?" 

"  Make  laws  to  do  it !  Every  minor  seen  in  a  saloon 
should  be  tied  to  a  whipping-post  and  given  twenty 
lashes  for  the  first  offense,  and  thirty  for  the  second. 
Take  my  word  for  it  these  whippings  would  cure  any 
boy  of  a  taste  for  saloons." 

Lele  thought  differently,  but  did  not  say  so.  After 
breakfast,  her  father  told  her  to  look  around  and  amuse 
herself ;  he  had  some  accounts  to  look  over  and  wouldn't 
have  much  time  to  talk  to  her  before  dinner ;  but  he 
hoped  she  would  make  herself  "  perfectly  at  home." 
And  Lele,  feeling  like  "  small  potatoes  in  Ireland,"  even 
in  the  eyes  of  her  own  father,  went  up-stairs  to  while 
away  the  time  by  shaking  out  her  dresses. 

"  I'd  better  have  left  them  at  the  station,"  she 
thought. 

Her  trunks  were  well  filled  —  one  of  them  with 
articles  of  clothing  which  she  had  outgrown.  These 


SUNDAY    MORNING.  87 

were  things  she  had  intended  to  give  the  younger  girls, 
together  with  a  number  of  little  gifts,  newly  purchased. 

Lele  examined  them  carefully,  doubting  whether 
any  of  them  would  make  acceptable  gifts.  There  was 
a  mustache  cup  for  her  father ;  would  he  appreciate  it  ? 
And  those  embroidered  cigar  cases  for  Ed  and  Syd  — 
how  trivial  and  useless  they  looked  (  Would  Jennie 
care  for  a  volume  of  poems,  or  Cora  for  an  album,  or 
Clem  for  a  tool-chest,  or  Charlie  for  a  story  book? 
Very  likely  not.  She  could  not  get  near  enough  to 
any  of  them  this  morning  to  exchange  remarks.  Ed, 
of  course,  was  invisible,  and  Syd  might  as  well  have 
been.  The  only  consolation  was  that  that  young  gen- 
tleman had  obviously  given  up  all  designs  on  her  hand. 
Lele  wondered  at  herself  for  feeling  vaguely  disap- 
pointed. 

She  took  a  big  doll  out  of  the  trunk  and  began 
arranging  its  toilet  with  the  air  of  one  who  seeks  that 
companionship  from  inanimate  objects  which  is  denied 
by  flesh  and  blood. 

' '  When  dreamless  sleep  is  mine  I  shall  not  need 
The  tenderness  for  which  I  long  to-day, '.' 

She  mused.  "  Oh,  dear !  how  dull  I  am.  I  wonder 
if  I  shall  have  to  resort  to  dolls  for  amusement  —  per- 
haps grow  imbecile  and  take  up  with  all  sorts  of  childish 
amusements." 

Presently  she  heard  a  gasp  of  delight.  Tude,  peer- 
ing through  the  half-open  door,  had  caught  sight  of 
the  doll. 


88  THE;  MAN  WITH  THE;  HOE. 

"  Come  here,  Tude,"  she  called. 

The  child  dropped  down  on  her  knees  before  the 
trunk  in  silent  adoration. 

"  Do  you  happen,"  asked  Lele,  "  to  know  any  good 
little  girl  who  needs  a  new  doll?" 

Tude  hung  her  head,  but  peeped  up  at  her  shyly 
through  her  curls. 

"  You  didn't  think  about  me  when  you  bought  it, 
did  you?"  she  asked. 

Lele  smiled  and  laid  the  doll  in  Tude's  outstretched 
arms.  As  she  did  so,  its  blue  eyes  closed.  Tude 
screamed  with  delight,  then  paused  doubtfully. 

"  She  ain't  bewitched,  is  she  ?"  she  asked  solemnly. 

"No,  no.     Why  do  you  think  so?" 

"  I  thought  maybe  the  ghost  had  come  in  an'  con- 
jured her.  Sister  says  a  ghost  walks  through  this 
room  every  night." 

"Ah !" 

"An'  she  says  she  bets  you  won't  stay  long  after  you 
see  it!" 

"  Hasn't  she  any  other  room  for  me  to  sleep  in  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes.  You  might  sleep  with  her.  But " — 
then  breaking  off  with  an  apologetic  little  smile,  "  Jen's 
cross !" 

"  Is  that  the  only  reason  she  makes  me  sleep  in 
the  front  room  alone?" 

"  I  guess  so.  She  said  if  you  had  to  sleep  in  the 
ghost  room  you  wouldn't  stay  so  long.  The  creaks, 
they  come ;  the  raps,  they  come ;  an'  sometimes  the  taps 

^  ; 


SUNDAY    MORNING.  89 

come,  an'  they're  worst  of  all."  Tude  glanced  fear- 
fully about  her  and  edged  toward  the  door  with  her 
doll. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  the  creaks  and  the  raps 
and  the  taps?"  demanded  Lele. 

"  I  hardly  know.  Only  if  you  hear  'em  you'll  never 
want  to  hear  'em  again, —  never  in  your  world,"  she 
added  in  a  "  little  Prudy "  fashion  peculiar  to  the 
child.  "  Them  creaks  an'  things  bring  bad  luck,  let 
me  tell  you.  Jen  says  she  thinks  sometimes  there's 
an  evil  spirit  in  the  curtains.  She  wishes  she  could 
burn  up  ever'  rag  an'  totter  of  'em  an'  then  maybe  we'd 
have  luck.  Oh,  dolly,  you  are  so  pretty!" 

"  She's  yours,  dear,"  said  Lele.  "  Won't  you  kiss 
me,  too?"  as  the  child  kissed  the  doll. 

But  Tude  would  not. 

"  I  promised  Jen  I  wouldn't,"  she  whispered,  glanc- 
ing fearfully  at  the  door.  "  She  said  she'd  lam  me 
well  if  I  kissed  you,  or  made  up  with  you  one  bit!" 

Lele  was  flesh  and  blood.  At  last  an  angry  flush 
rose  to  her  cheek  and  her  eyes  flashed. 

"  Go  and  tell  Cora  and  Clem  and  Charlie  I  have 
something  for  them  in  my  trunk,"  she  said,  hastily 
rising.  "  Tell  them  I  want  to  see  them  right  awa\." 

Tude  flew  down-stairs  like  the  wind,  carrying  her 
treasure  with  her. 

"  Look  what  I've  got !  Look  what  I've  got !'  she 
screamed,  rushing  gleefully  into  the  kitchen.  "  Lele 
says  she  is  going  to  give  something  nice  to  Cora  an* 


90  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

) 

Clem  an'  Charlie  if  they'll  come  right  straight  up-stairs ; 
but  she  won't  give  nothin'  to  Jen,  'cause  she  made  her 
sleep  in  the  ghost  room." 

Now  it  chanced  that  this  little  speech  came  up 
at  the  worst  possible  time  with  regard  to  any  peace 
between  the  two  step-sisters.  Jennie,  ashamed  of  her 
conduct  already,  had  been  trying  to  make  up  her  mind 
to  show  Lele  more  courtesy,  when  Tude's  speech  threw 
all  "  the  fat  in  the  fire  "  again,  and  Jennie,  more  angry 
than  ever,  gave  herself  bodily  over  to  her  evil  genius. 
She  said  nothing  at  first,  only  redoubling  her  efforts 
to  sweep  the  kitchen  clean  — "  diggin'  splinters  off  the 
floor  at  every  jab,''  Charlie  declared.  All  the  dust  in 
the  floor  was  soon  in  the  air. 

"  I've  seen  dusts,"  gasped  Charlie,  "  but  I'll  swan 
I  never  set  peepers,  as  Sam  Cahill  says,  on  such  a  dust 
Sunday  morning.  You  can't  see  your  hand  before  you. 
If  any  of  the  neighbors  would  happen  in  it  would  play 
hobs  with  Spix's  Markley  chances.  His  first  wife  was 
so  clean  that  she  scraped  the  cracks  of  her  kitchen 
floor  with  a  toothpick ;  an'  kep'  a  scrapin',  I  guess,  till 
she  gradually  scraped  herself  out  of  the  world." 

"  It  tickles  Jin  to  fill  our  hair  full  of  dust,  so  she 
can  scold  us  for  letting  our  scalps  get  dirty,"  said  Clem, 
plaintively. 

"  Clear  out  of  the  dust  then,'  said  Jennie,  positively. 
"  You  have  all  out-doors  to  stand  in,  I  reckon,  without 
clutterin'  up  the  kitchen  till  I  can't  sweep." 

After  the  dust  subsided  Tude  inquired  why  they 
didn't  all  go  upstairs  after  their  presents. 


SUNDAY    MORNING.  QI 

"  I  wonder,  now,  if  she'd  give  me  a  knife  with  two 
blades.  I  want  one  awful  bad,"  said  Clem,  looking 
inquiringly  at  Charlie,  who  looked  back  at  him  and 
said,  as  he  slid  gradually  off  the  kitchen  table: 

"  I  reckon  she  don't  know  I  want  a  Robinson 
Crusoe." 

"And  I,"  sighed  Cora,  "am  just  crazy  for  a  new 
dress." 

"  Well,  you'll  take  none  from  her,"  snapped  Jennie, 
flinging  the  broom  back  of  the  door. 

"  Now,  Caudle,  you're  just  mad  'cause  she  won't 
give  you  nothin',"  said  Charlie ;  "  I'm  goin'  right 
straight  upstairs,  an'  if  she's  anything  to  offer,  I'll 
pocket  it.  Come  on,  Clem." 

They  started  for  a  race. 

"  No,  boys !"  Jennie's  voice  rang  out  somewhat  like 
Sheridan's  when  he  shouted :  "  Turn,  boys,  turn ;  we're 
going  back."  The  boys  turned. 

"  It  isn't  because  she's  trying  to  slight  me,"  Jennie 
went  on.  "  I  wouldn't  have  her  old  trumpery,  and  she 
knows  it.  No  doubt  she's  got  a  trunk  half  full  of  old 
cast-off  duds  and  second-hand  Christmas  gifts  that  she 
thinks  she'll  dispose  of  by  pokin'  them  off  onto  us.  I'd 
sooner  throw  them  into  her  face  than  take  them,  and 
so  would  the  rest  of  you  if  you  had  any  spunk." 

"  Spunk's  the  main  thing !"  groaned  Charlie.  "  Oh, 
ye  gooseberries !  How  I  wish  we  all  had  enough  of  it." 

"  I  don't  see  what  harm  it  would  be  to  take  what 
she  offers  us,"  pleaded  Cora.  "  We're  never  able  to 


92  THE   MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

buy  anything,  and  I  don't  see  why  we  should  always 
be  too  spunky  to  take  what  is  offered  to  us." 

"  No,  you  don't,"  said  Jennie,  pushing  the  table 
back  against  the  wall  with  a  series  of  deafening  squeaks. 
"  You  haven't  a  bit  more  spirit  than  a  June  chicken. 
You'd  stand  there  half  asleep  and  hold  out  your  apron 
for  a  present  if  one  of  the  St.  Johns  offered  it.  You 
really  would." 

"Oh,  Jen!     You  know  I  wouldn't." 

"  Yes,  you  would.  You'd  wear  old  cast-off  shoes 
and  gloves  that  Trix  Collins  offered  you !" 

"  Wait  and  see,  madam !"  said  Cora,  beginning  to 
get  "  roused.' 

"  I've  got  the  pride  of  my  race  in  my  veins,  and 
you  ought  to  have  the  pride  of  yours.  The  Fairfaxes 
were  always  above  letting  anybody  patronize  them ; 
but  your  ancestors  might  as  well  have  been  Cahills 
or  Grimses  for  all  the  good  an  old  name  does  you." 

"Well,  now,  Jen,  what's  the  use  to  scold  so?" 
pleaded  Cora.  "  Pride  won't  put  shoes  on  your  feet 
nor  dresses  on  your  back.  You  know  I  haven't  a  dress 
to  my  name  that  is  really  fit  to  wear,  an'  my  best  shoes 
are  more  '  holey '  than  righteous." 

"  What  of  that  ?    .Have  /  anything  to  wear  ?" 

"  You  had  a  new  hat  last  summer,  while  *I  haven't 
had  one  for  three  years." 

"  I'd  rob  a  milliner's  store,  Code,  I  would  indeed, 
'fore  I'd  go  into  winter  quarters  in  that  hat  of  yours," 
said  Charlie.  "  It  looked  like  a  hornet's  nest  when  it 


SUNDAY    MORNING.  93 

was  new,  and  now  it  looks  like  the  home  of  a  field 
mouse." 

"'Taint  so!"  said  Cora,  indignantly. 

"A  stuffed  bat  and  one  or  two  dried  grasshoppers 
might  chirk  it  up  a  bit !"  said  Charlie.  "  But  I  think 
it  would  hardly  pass  at  that." 

"  You've  your  black  alpaca,"  said  Cora,  ignoring 
Charlie's  last  taunt,  though  smarting  under  it. 

•  "  My  black  alpaca !"  echoed  Jennie  with  an  inde- 
scribable accent.  "  It  was  clear  out  of  date  last  winter ; 
it's  impossible  now.  And  besides  it  has  faded  out  as 
green  as  grass.  I  always  feel  like  I  want  to  crawl 
into  a  knot-hole  when  I  get  into  company  in  that  rig 
—  I  can  hardly  bear  to  look  up.' 

"A  regular  back  number,"  said  Charlie.  "  But  I 
like  you  best  in  it,  Jen,  because  you  can  never  find  your 
tongue  when  you  wear  it.' 

"  You  looked  so  stylish  in  it  at  first." 

"  I  thought  I  did  because  I  didn't  know  any  better." 

"  You  mean  people  hadn't  got  to  puttin'  on  so 
much  dog  at  Bethany,"  said  Charlie. 

"  That's  it.  Nobody  wears  alpaca  now.  I  never 
dare  stand  near  any  of  the  girls  in  their  new  cashmeres 
r.nd  henriettas.  It  makes  me  feel  like  an  old  umbrella 
that  has  bleached  out  green  in  the  rain  and  sun." 

"  But  still  has  its  snap,"  whispered  Charlie. 

Tude  now  quite  innocently  "  put  the  cap  on  the 
climax." 

"You  just  ought  to  have  seen  Lele's  black  silk!" 


94 

she  panted,  as  though  overpowered  by  a  sudden  recol- 
lection of  its  richness.  "  I  heard  such  a  rustlin'  that 
I  thought  she  was  makin'  up  the  straw  tick,  an'  so  I 
peeped  in  to  see  what  she  was  at,  an'  saw  her  shakin' 
x  out  her  silk.  It  was  fixed  up  fine  enough  for  anybody's 
second-day  dress  —  all  a-glitterin'  with  jet" — 

"  Wouldn't  your  ole  alapacker  cut  -a  figure  along 
side  it  at  Bethany  Church?"  said  Charlie,  glancing  at 
Jennie  and  feeling  half  sorry  for  her,  boy  as  he  was, 
she  looked  so  miserable. 

"  Why,  I  wouldn't  go  into  Bethany  Church  with 
her  for  anything  on  earth,"  Jennie  exclaimed,  beneath 
whose  dark  eyes  unshed  tears  were  casting  shadows. 
"  If  she  stays  here  a  month  of  Sundays  I'll  never  go 
to  meeting  with  her.  I'll  let  her  know  she's  in  the 
wrong  pew  when  she  comes  here  to  spread  around  in 
her  fine  silks." 

"  It  does  look  mean  when  she  knows  we've  nothing 
to  dress  on,"  sighed  Cora. 

"An'  that  wasn't  the  only  one,  either,"  added  Tude, 
glorifying  in  her  role  of  reporter.  "  She's  got  a  brown 
silk  finer  than  Mary  St.  John's  weddin'  dress.  It's 
just  that  fine  it  hurts  your  eyes  to  look  at  it!" 

"And  she  knows  we're  up  to  the  eyes  in  debt,"  cried 
Jennie.  "  She  can't  help  knowing  how  much  bad  luck 
we've  had  and  how  little  we've  got  to  live  on.  Yet 
she's  never  once  sent  us  so  much  as  a  hair  ribbon  all 
these  years.  She's  a  chip  off  the  old  block,  she  is." 

"  In  other  words,  a  female  Ome,"  observed  the 
undutiful  Charlie. 


SUNDAY    MORNING.  95 

'•  I'll  bet  her  presents  won't  amount  to  a  hill  of 
beans,  anyhow,"  Jennie  went  on.  "  There'll  be  some 
toy  books  for  each  of  you  boys,  an'  an  old  sunshade 
for  Code.  Like  as  not  she's  got  a  pair  of  soiled  gloves 
for  me,  and  a  necktie  apiece  for  Ed  and  Syd.  You'll 
not  catch  her  givin'  away  anything  of  value.  She's 
been  too  well  trained  for  that.  They  say  her  aunt  and 
uncle  were  two  of  the  stingiest  old  coots  in  all  this 
part  of  the  country." 

"  Besides  their  inherited  screwism"  Charlie  added. 

"  Tude's  doll  must  have  cost  something,"  suggested 
Cora. 

"  It's  an  old  one  of  Lele's  dressed  up,  I'll  warrant." 

"  Well,  I  don't  believe  I  want  any  of  her  presents," 
said  Clem  slowly. 

"  Jen  won't  let  us  go  upstairs  — 'fear  we'll  get  some- 
thing nice  an'  she  won't,"  said  Charlie.  "  Better  let 
us  go,  'Sphixia ;  maybe  she'll  relent  an'  send  you  some- 
thin',  after  all." 

Charlie  had  several  pet  names  for  Jennie,  such  as 
Miss  Asphyxia,  Xantippe,  Mrs.  Poyser,  Caudle,  etc. 
When  he  wanted  to  twit  her  on  her  age  he  called  her 
"  ole  nineteener." 

"  Oh,  go,  go  by  all  means,"  sneered  Jennie ;  "  but 
if  she  gives  you  some  old  nursery  rhymes,  or  a  cotton 
handkerchief,  or  a  stick  of  hoarhound  candy,  it  will 
be  just  good  for  you.  If  you  haven't  pride  enough 
to  show  yourself  independent  of  her  charity  you  deserve 
to  get  bit." 


THE   MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 


"  I  guess  I'll  not  bother  goin'  up,"  said  Cora,  slowly. 

"  Well,  if  nobody  else  will  go  I  won't  !"  said  Charlie, 
walking  so  heavily  out  of  the  room  that  he  shook  some 
of  the  pans  off  the  shelf  in  his  anger. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

LEI.E  AND  JENNIE. 

After  waiting  for  some  time  for  the  children  to 
come  and  get  their  presents  Lele  became  convinced  that 
Tude  had  either  forgotten  to  deliver  her  message,  or 
that  Jennie  had  interfered ;  so  she  decided  to  take  the 
presents  downstairs  herself. 

Upon  thinking  the  matter  over,  she  concluded  that 
it  would  be  best  to  give  them  to  Jennie  for  distribution. 
Lele's  anger,  always  short-lived,  had  already  abated, 
and  she  determined  at  all  hazards  to  establish  friendly 
relations  with  the  unhappy  girl.  It  was  inexpressibly 
sad  to  see  one  so  young  steeped,  as  it  were,  to  the  very 
lips  in  gall.  This  state  of  mind  must  have  resulted 
from  a  combination  of  unfortunate  circumstances 
whose  nature  Lele  only  partly  comprehended.  Accord- 
ingly, "  with  malice  toward  none,  with  charity  for  all," 
she  bravely  took  up  her  armful  of  presents  and  went 
down,  bent  on  "bearding  the  Douglas  in  her  hall."  But 
when,  upon  reaching  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  Jennie 
emerged  from  the  parlor  with  a  broom  and  dustpan 
in  her  hands,  Lele's  courage  began  to  ebb.  For  the 
fiftieth  time  she  wished  herself,  trunks  and  presents 
back  at  the  station  with  the  west-bound  express  just 
due.  There  was  that  in  Jen's  glance,  her  expression, 

(7)  (97) 


98  THE   MAN   WITH   THE  HOE. 

her  whole  attitude  that  would  have  intimidated  even 
a  war  correspondent.  Lele's  feet  seemed  at  that 
moment  to  be  fuller  of  thoughts  than  her  head ;  it  was 
with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  she  could  keep  them 
from  carrying  her  back  to  her  room  with  all  haste. 

"  I  have  some  little  presents  for  the  children  that 
I  should  like  for  you  to  distribute.  Will  you,  Jennie?" 
she  was  greatly  relieved  to  hear  herself  say  when  at 
last  she  recovered  her  presence  of  mind.  "  Here  is  a 
volume  of  poems  for  you,  and  the  others  are  each 
marked  with  the  owner's  name." 

Half  a  dozen  little  gifts  are  sure  to  look  rather 
liberal  in  the  eyes  of  a  good-natured,  sweet-tempered 
giver  accustomed  to  look  upon  such  things  as  merely 
a  proof  of  good-will,  ornamental  perhaps,  but  not 
necessarily  useful.  In  the  eyes  of  the  recipients  they 
may  appear  positively  niggardly.  Jen,  moreover,  was 
just  now  in  a  mood  to  spurn  any  friendly  offering  made 
by  the  owner  of  those  rustling  silks.  She  stood  silent, 
her  eyes  growing  visibly  larger,  darker,  more  unsmiling 
than  usual,  the  strong,  white  teeth  sinking  with  a  spas- 
modic movement  into  the  full,  tremulous  underlip. 

"  I  hope  you  like  Longfellow,  Jennie,"  Lele  went 
on,  seeing  that  the  other  made  no  attempt  to  take  the 
book  she  held  out.  "If  not,  I  can  easily  exchange  it  for 
some  favorite  of  yours." 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself,"  said  stony-hearted  Jen- 
nie: "/  never  read  poetry,  or  anything  else.  I've  no 
time.  You  better  give  it  to  somebody  who  has." 

"  I'm  sorry  I  didn't  know  that,"  said  Lele,  pleas- 


LELE   AND   JENNIE.  99 

antly.     "What  would  you  prefer  instead  of  a  book?" 

"  I  really  don't  care  anything  about  presents,  and 
I  don't  think  any  of  the  rest  do,  either.  When  people 
can  give  nothing  they  should  accept  nothing." 

"  But,  Jennie,  I  wish  to  give  each  of  you  something 
as  a  token  of  friendship.  None  of  the  gifts  are  val- 
uable. You  need  have  no  scruples  about  accepting 
them.  All  I  ask  in  return  is  as  much  friendship  as 
prompts  their  offering." 

"  I  see  they  are  not  particularly  valuable,"  said 
Jennie,  cruelly.  "  We  are  in  need  of  a  good  many 
things  here,  but  not  any  of  what  you  have  to  offer. 
And  as  for  friendship  —  it  can  not  be  so  easily  pur- 
chased." 

Lele  looked  bewildered. 

"  What  have  I  done  to  make  you  hate  me  so?"  she 
cried. 

"  Who  said  I  hated  you  ?" 

"  Nothing  but  hate  could  make  you  treat  me  in 
this  way,  Jennie." 

The  two  girls  stood  a  few  steps  apart,  gazing 
steadily  into  each  other's  eyes.  There  was  bitter  defi- 
ance in  Jennie's,  but  neither  anger  nor  contempt  in 
the  clear  brown  eyes  of  her  fair  young  step-sister. 
Only  pity  and  wonder  were  mirrored  there. 

After  vainly  trying  to  outlook  one  whom  she  per- 
sisted in  considering  an  .-avowed  enemy,  the  angry  girl 
said: 

"  I  know  we're  bad,  but  I  don't  think  you  can  civ- 
ilize us," 


100  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Jennie." 

"  I  suppose  you've  read  in  some  Sunday-school 
story  about  a  girl  that  goes  home  after  an  absence  of 
several  years  and  civilizes  her  father's  family.  It's 
an  old  tale.  Quite  different  in  real  life,  though,  from 
what  it  is  in  books." 

"  In  what  .does  it  differ,  Jennie  ?" 

"  In  books  the  heroine  harnesses  the  whole  family, 
and  drives  them  how  and  where  she  will.  Everything 
pans  out  exactly  right.  Drunkards  are  reformed ; 
everybody  gets  religion  —  politicians  even!  Poverty 
and  strife  vanish;  an  obliging  uncle  in  India  dies  just 
at  the  right  moment  and  leaves  his  fortune  to  the 
heroine ;  she  marries  and  is  rich  and  happy  ever  after. 
Pah !  I  hate  such  lying  tales.;' 

"  I  thought  you  had  no  time  for  reading!"  said 
Lele. 

"  I  haven't  for  that  kind  of  stuff.  I  got  a  distaste 
for  it  when  I  was  a  child.  And  I  don't  have  time 
for  anything  better.  When  I  have  nothing  else  to  do 
I  —  patch." 

"And  dream,  I  suppose,"  said  Lele,  thoughtfully. 

"  I've  got  something  else  to  do  but  sit  in  a  ham- 
mock and  imagine  things,  as  you  town  girls  do,"  said 
Jennie. 

Lele  looked  steadily  at  her  rebellious  hostess. 

"  Jennie,"  she  said,  pleadingly,  "  why  do  you  treat 
me  so  strangely?  Am  I  your  enemy?" 

"  You  have  never  been  my  friend !"  said  Jennie, 
coldly,  "  and  as  you  have  always  had  everything  else 


AND   JENNIE.  IOI 

you  wanted  all  your  life  you  can  do  without  any  friend- 
ship of  mine.  You  don't  need  it." 

"  What  have  I  that  you  have  not  ?"  asked  Lele. 

*A  college  education." 

"  Have  you  been  jealous  of  my  educational  advan- 
tages all  these  years?  1  never  suspected  it." 

"  It's  true  —  I  wanted  an  education,"  said  Jennie, 
sullenly. 

"  Don't  blame  me,  Jennie.  I  was  powerless  to  aid 
you.  My  aunt  and  uncle  cherished  singular  prejudices 
against  my  father's  family.  Had  they  lived  I  never 
could  have  come  here  at  all.  But  as  soon  as  I  was 
at  liberty  to  do  as  I  pleased  in  the  matter  I  chose  to 
come  here,  that  I  might  know  you  all.  I  felt  so  anxious 
to  meet  you,"  the  sweet  voice  faltered.  "  I  took  the 
first  opportunity  to  bridge  the  gulf  that  had  always 
been  between  us.  I  am  so  alone  in  the  world,  Jennie. 
I  do  so  long  for  brothers  and  sisters  to  love  me." 

"  You've  ignored  us  all  these  years." 

"Auntie  wouldn't  allow  me  to  hold  any  communi- 
cation with  my  father's  family,  except  to  write  to  papa 
once  or  twice  a  year.  I  never  thought  it  right ;  but 
as  I  did  not  know  that  you  really  needed  any  help  that 
I  could  give,  it  seemed  less  wrong  and  unnatural  to 
me  than  it  must  have  seemed  to  you.  Will  you  not 
let  the  past  be  forgotten  and  let  us  be  friends  for  the 
future?". 

"  I  can't  tell  you  what  I've  suffered  the  last  few 
years,"  said  Jennie,  slowly ;  "  I've  got  so  I  hate  every- 
body almost  —  you  among  the  rest.  I've  said  often 


IO2  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

that  if  you  ever  came  here  to  visit  I'd  drive  you  away. 
You've  had  a  good  time  all  your  life,  but  you  can't 
fare  any  better  than  the  rest  of  us  here." 

"Am  I  to  blame,"  asked  Lele,  "  for  my  aunt's 
wishes  while  she  lived,  or  for  her  will  when  she  died?" 

"  I  suppose  not.' 

"And  why  blame  me  because  I  did  not  visit  you 
or  try  to  help  you  sooner?  I  came  at  the  earliest  pos- 
sible moment.  How  was  I  received?" 

"  With  shameful  lack  of  courtesy,  I'll  admit,"  said 
Jennie,  with  blazing  cheeks.  "  I'm  sorry." 

"  Then  why  do  you  still  hold  me  at  a  distance  ? 
Oh,  Jennie,  Jennie,  why  will  you  not  let  me  love  you 
and  help  you?" 

But  for  Jennie's  evil  genius  she  would  have  thrown 
her  arms  around  the  lovely,  beseeching  girl  and  all 
would  have  been  forever  right  between  them.  But 
Jennie's  prejudice  had  been  growing  too  long  to  be 
easily  uprooted.  She  shook  off  the  hand  that  would 
have  rested  caressingly  on  her  shoulder.  It  was  just 
the  loving  touch  she  so  much  needed,  but  the  hand  was 
white  as  a  lily,  soft  as  satin  and  adorned  with  a  costly 
ring.  Jennie  clenched  her  own  toil-worn,  sunburned 
hands  and  looked  sullenly  away.  A  beautiful  white 
hand  was  one  source  of  ungratified  longing  with  her, 
and  among  all  other  gifts  Lele  must  needs  possess  this 
one,  too. 

"  Jennie,"  said  Lele,  in  a  very  winning  tone,  "  I 
should  like  to  have  you  know  me  as  I  am,  and  not  as 
you  imagine  me." 


AND   JENNIE.  103 

Jennie  was  silent.  It  nearly  killed  her  to  con- 
template the  prospect  of  an  extended  visit  from  Lele. 
Shame  and  regret  only  added  piquancy  to  her  dislike 
for  her  fortunate  step-sister. 

"  I  really  can  not  stay  if  you  don't  want  me,"  said 
Lele,  ready  to  burst  into  tears. 

"  You  needn't  mind  me,"  Jennie  contrived  to  utter. 
"You  came  to  see  your  father  and  Ed,  I  suppose.  I 
haven't  any  right  to  drive  you  away  from  them." 

"  I  can  not  stay  as  their  guest  if  you  do  not  want 
me." 

"  I  am  awfully  sorry  I've  treated  you  so,"  said 
Jennie,  deeply  humiliated.  "  I  wouldn't,  only  I'm  so 
miserable,  and  I've  misunderstood  you  so,"  she  added 
humbly. 

"  Then  you  will  not  refuse  my  little  gift  ?" 

"I  —  I  —  don't  —  deserve  it,"  stammered  the 
wretched  girl,  and  she  burst  into  tears.  Lele,  touched 
with  pity,  led  her  gently  into  the  parlor  and  closed 
the  door.  Words  spoken  now  to  that  rebellious  heart 
would  have  been  worse  than  wasted.  Lele,  quite 
unconsciously,  did  the  wisest  thing  she  could  have 
done  —  cried  as  hard  as  Jennie  did.  Tears  were  as 
much  a  relief  to  one  as  to  the  other.  But  little  was 
said  afterwards. 

An  hour  later,  Jennie  having  gone  up  to  her  room 
to  meditate  on  her  misdeeds  and  consider  Lele's  friendly 
overtures  before  deciding  to  capitulate,  Lele  went  out 
to  the  swing  in  the  back  yard  (where  the  children  were 
congregated)  to  distribute  their  presents,  feeling  very 


IO4  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

much  like  a  doctor  vaccinating  a  group  of  unwilling 
school  children,  gratis.  Acting  upon  Jennie's  instruc- 
tions, they  seemed  uncertain  what  to  do,  and  would 
gladly  have  declined  the  little  gifts  she  offered  rather 
than  face  Jen  and  her  succeeding  curtain  lecture. 

At  last,  feeling  that  she  had  missed  it  all  around  in 
the  gift-making  line,  Lele  inquired  if  any  of  them  were 
going  to  church  at  Bethany. 

"  I  guess  not,"  said  Cora.  "  The  preacher  preaches 
forever,  an'  drolls  it  out  so  it  makes  your  head  buzz 
to  hear  him." 

"  When  do  they  have  Sunday-school  ?" 

"At  two  in  the  afternoon ;  preachin'  's  at  three. 
You  ought  to  hear  the  flies  buzz  there  these  hot  after- 
noons !" 

"  Don't  any  of  you  go  ?" 

"  Hardly  ever.  Jin  and  Syd  both  got  mad  'cause 
they  treated  'em  so  mean  'bout  the  singin'.  I  don't 
like  to  go  to  Bethany ;  they  dress  up  so !" 

"  How  far  is  it  ?" 

"A  mile  an'  a  half  or  so.  We  used  to  ride,  but 
now  pap's  sold  the  buggy  an'  spring  wagon  we  have 
t'  walk.  It's  no  snap  this  weather  I  c'n  tell  you.  You 
goin'  ?" 

"  I  will  if  I  can  get  anybody  to  show  me  the  way. 
Will  YOU,  Cora?" 

"  Oh  —  I  —  can't,"  said  Cora,  slowly.  She  was 
thinking  of  her  shabby  clothes.  Lele  put  the  same 
question  to  the  boys. 

Charlie  and  Clem,  rather  ashamed  of  their  grace- 


LELE   AND   JENNIE.  105 

less  manner  heretofore,  would  have  consented  gladly 
if  they  had,  either  of  them,  possessed  a  whole  suit  that 
was  fit  to  wear  to  Bethany. 

But  the  fact  was  that  they  hardly  ever  were  lucky 
enough  to  get  spring  suits  until  about  the  Fourth  of 
July,  and  that  kept  them  mostly  at  home  all  spring. 
On  this  score  they  felt  compelled  to  decline  the  honor 
of  escorting  their  new  sister  to  church. 

"  She'd  be  ashamed  of  us,"  thought  Charlie.  "An' 
besides  I  don't  propose  to  risk  bein'  guyed  again  soon 
by  the  Bethany  boys  as-  I  was  last  time  I  was  there 
in  that  ole  skimpy,  hedgehog  suit  of  mine." 

Tude,  when  appealed  to,  gave  ready  consent,  being 
as  yet  indifferent  to  the  cut  of  her  clothes. 

Unpleasant  as  these  scenes  had  been,  one  yet  more 
distressing  lay  before  Lele.  She  felt  that  she  must  see 
Ed,  who  had  never  been  entirely  absent  from  her  wak- 
ing thoughts  since  the  previous  evening.  Through 
Tude  she  procured  a  cup  of  tea,  and  the  two  went  up 
and  knocked  at  Ed's  door. 

"  Who's  there  ?'  demanded  a  surly  voice  very  much 
like  that  in  which  Sir  Wolf  addressed  Little  Red  Rid- 
ing Hood. 

"  It's  Lele,  Ed,"  said  his  sister's  soft  voice.  "  May 
I  come  in?  I've  got  a  cup  of  tea  for  you." 

Ed  growled  out  something  equivalent  to  "  Lift  the 
latch,"  and  the  two  girls  entered,  little  Tude  sniffing 
contemptuously  as  the  scent  of  liquor  saluted  her  little 
nose. 

Ed,  deathly  sick,  and  nearly  crazed  with  headache, 


IO6  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

lay  with  one  ami  doubled  up  under  his  head,  the  other 
hand  grasping  a  newspaper  with  which  he  was  fighting 
the  flies.  Though  both  door  and  window  were  now 
open,  the  combined  odor  of  whisky  and  tobacco  nearly 
made  Lele  sick,  while  the  purple  face  with  bloodshot 
eyes  peering  over  the  old  ragged  quilt  was  an  object 
to  inspire  disgust  and  loathing  rather  than  pity  or  love. 
It  seemed  such  a  needless  state,  such  a  uselessly  degrad- 
ing position  that  she  could  scarcely  force  herself  to 
approach  him.  But  by  a  determined  effort  she  spoke 
cheerfully,  and  forbore  looking  at  him  because  she 
saw  it  made  him  angry. 

"  Cora  made  you  some  tea,  Ed.  and  I  coaxed  her  to 
let  me  bring  it  up,  as  your  head  was  aching  so  badly. 
Won't  you  drink  it?" 

Ed  shuddered  at  the  sound  of  her  voice,  and  shrank 
as  though  from  a  blow. 

Her  manner,  her  words,  her  very  voice  reminded 
him  painfully,  but  vividly,  of  his  gentle  step-mother, 
who  had  come  up  to  his  room  with  a  cup  of  tea  on 
the  morning  after  he  had  first  come  home  intoxicated. 
How  tenderly  and  sorrowfully  she  had  talked  with  him 
then !  He  remembered  now,  more  clearly  than  at  any 
time  since  she  died,  how  pale  she  had  looked  that  morn- 
ing, how  feeble  and  languid  she  had  seemed,  and  how 
she  had  trembled  from  the  exertion  of  coming  upstairs. 
How  his  face  had  burned  with  shame,  feeling  that  he 
could  never  look  into  her  pure  face  again,  now  he 
had  disgraced  himself.  He  had  promised  her,  humbly 
enough,  that  he  would  never  enter  a  saloon  again,  and 


AND   JENNIE.  IO/ 

while  she  lived,  he  had  kept  his  word.  But,  since,  there 
had  been  so  much  to  drive  him  into  dissipation  that  he 
had  scarcely  cared  what  he  did.  Even  his  father's 
tenderest  words  had  been: 

"  I'll  horsewhip  you  within  an  inch  of  your  life, 
you  dog,  if  ever  I  catch  you  drunk  again." 


CHAPTER  X. 
BETHANY. 

Lele  left  Ed's  room  almost  disheartened.  She  had 
talked  with  him  gently,  affectionately,  earnestly,  as  only 
a  loving  Christian  wife,  sister  or  mother  can.  She  had 
begged  him,  as  he  valued  decency  and  manhood  in  this 
world  and  peace  in  the  next,  to  dissolve  the  partnership 
in  the  firm  of  "  Satan  and  Fairfax,"  of  which  he  was 
the  junior  member,  taken  into  the  firm  only  to  be 
fleeced  and  ruined. 

How  much  influence  she  had  wielded  she  could  not 
tell,  when  she  left  the  room  and  went  sadly  down  stairs 
again.  Her  usually  buoyant  spirits  had  deserted  her, 
and  she  felt  depressed  and  sorrowful.  She  feared  that 
it  was  but  a  repetition  of  her  talk  with  Jennie,  so  far 
as  any  hopeful  results  were  concerned.  And  it  sad- 
dened her,  too,  to  observe  that  her  aptitude  for  making 
friends  had  deserted  her.  Even  Syd  appeared  averse  to 
cultivating  her  friendship,  and  her  very  father  ignored 
her.  The  only  drop  of  consolation  lay  in  the  fact  that 
she  had  won  little  Tude. 

****** 

Contrary  to  anticipation,  Mr.  Fairfax  called  Lele 
into  the  sitting-room  the  moment  she  went  down  stairs, 

( 108) 


BETHANY.  109 

and  continued  to  talk  to  her  until  near  noon,  which 
should  have  established  friendly  relations  between 
them ;  but  as  the  talk  ran  almost  exclusively  upon  a 
new  turnpike  which  he  had  been  chiefly  instrumental 
in  securing,  not  much  progress  was  made. 

Lele  listened  at  first  with  interest,  then  with 
patience.  But  finding  the  theme  inexhaustible  if  not 
interrupted,  she  finally  attempted  to  change  the  subject 
by  questioning  him  concerning  family  affairs. 

"  Well,  really,"  he  said,  removing  his  gold  eyeglass 
for  the  fiftieth  time  and  polishing  them  with  his  silk 
handkerchief,  "  I  have  but  little  time  to  see  to  the  farm  ; 
I  leave  that  mostly  to  Syd.  My  tenants  are,  as  I 
understand,  a  very  shackling  set  of  fellows.  I  have 
never  succeeded  in  securing  any  that  bring  me  any 
profit,  and  I  am  sure  I  can  not  tell  why,  for  they  all 
come  well  recommended.  Syd  is  to  blame,  I  think,  for 
their  doing  so  badly.  If  he  only  had  the  knack  of  get- 
ting along  better  with  his  workmen,  there  would  be  no 
trouble.  But  he  expects  perfection,  and  when  he  finds 
in  a  tenant  any  of  the  little  foibles  that  the  class  seem 
to  claim  as  a  right,  he  has  a  falling  out  with  them,  and 
their  usefulness  is  at  an  end.  There's  Jack  Grimes, 
now  —  a  better  fellow  never  lived,  only  he  likes  beer 
and  fishing  too  well.  And  Scott  Higgins  and  his  boys 
would  rather  work  for  anybody  than  themselves.  Syd 
has  been  trying  for  some  time  to  get  them  all  off  the 
place,  but  I  tell  him  that  if  he  can't  get  along  with  the 
Grimes-Higgins  faction,  he  couldn't  do  any  better  with 


110  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

a  new  set.  He's  spoiled  every  tenant  I  ever  had  just 
by  giving  away  to  his  temper,  which  is  brittle  as  glass. 
I  tell  him  he  really  never  will  succeed  until  he  learns 
more  self-control.  I've  given  him  most  of  the  farm 
management  for  the  last  four  or  five  years,  as  I  had 
so  many  public  duties  to  attend  to,  and  thought  it 
would  be  a  splendid  opportunity  to  develop  him  as  a 
farmer.  But,  as  I  said,  he  doesn't  appear  to  be  doing 
any  good.  I  fear  he  will  never  master  the  art  of 
making  money.  Things  are  getting  in  worse  shape 
here  very  year;  debts  are  accumulating,  and  there 
seems  no  prospect,  the  way  things  are,  of  ever  being 
able  to  pay  out." 

».  "I  did  not  know  this  until  I  came  here,"  Lele 
replied.  "  I  always  imagined  you  one  of  the  most  pros- 
perous farmers  in  the  State.  Aunt  Roxy  thought  so, 
I  am  sure,  or  she  would  have  done  more  for  Ed." 

"Oh— Ed!"  Mr.  Fairfax  looked  disgusted.  "The 
boy  is  a  perfect  shack,  Lele,  not  worth  his  salt.  \Yon't 
work  unless  he's  driven  to  it ;  wants  to  be  a  machinist 
— fiddlesticks!  He  couldn't  oil-  an  old  clock  without 
smashing  it.  Ed  thinks  he's  nbove  farming,  while  if 
he  did  but  know  it,  he's  fit  for  nothing  else.  A  man 
must  be  educated  before  he's  fit  for  much  else ;  but 
Ed  has  no  education.  When  I  sent  him  to  the  district 
school  he  played  hookey  most  of  the  time,  or  busied 
himself  by  whittling  grotesque  toys,  A\hich  kept  up  a 
hubbub  among  the  little  ones,  and  several  times  came 
near  getting  him  expelled.  He's  been  a  regular  rab- 


BETHANY.  Ill 

scab  all  his  days  —  case  of  acute  moral  depravity,  in 
my  opinion  —  and  if  I  ever  let  him  gst  away  among 
strangers  he'll  land  in  the  penitentiary.  Farming's  the 
best  occupation  for  young  men  without  much  capital, 
anyhow,  and  if  they  grow  up  uneducated,  as  my  boys 
have,  it's  about  their  only  hope  of  ever  being  inde- 
pendent. A  man,  you  know,  must  be  educated  before 
he  can  be  fit  for  any  other  business ;  but  any  fool  can 
farm.  Fact  is,  Lelia,  I've  noticed  it  all  my  life  —  the 
less  learning  a  man  has,  the  better  he  can  farm.  The 
more  he  reads,  the  less  he.  makes.  Syd  would  succeed 
far  better  if  he  read  less.  Here  he  takes  a  lot  of 
farm  papers  with  their  ridiculous  expensive  ways  of 
doing  everything  —  be  better  off  without  them.  It 
makes  him  discontented  to  pick  up  a  paper  and  read 
how  fortunes  have  been  made  from  all  sorts  of  impos- 
sible things.  Like  Jean,  now  "•  —her  step-father  rarely 
called  her  Jennie  —  ''she's  got  crack-brained  on  the 
subject  of  singing.  A  few  years  ago  she  was  as  happy 
and  contented  a  creature  as  you  would  wish  to  see. 
Then  along  comes  a  music-beaddled  professor  out  for 
a  summer  vacation  among  our  hills,  and  pretends  to 
discover  that  the  child  has  a  wonderful  voice  —  one 
that  would,  if  cultivated,  make  her  famous.  He  said 
four  or  five  years'  training  would  make  a  second  Patti 
of  her.  Stuff  and  nonsense!  The  fellow  deserved  a 
booting.  Jean  sings  quite  well,  it  is  true ;  but  as  for 
making  a  second  Patti !  The  thing  is  preposterous. 
I  tried  to  make  her  see  the  folly  of  listening  to  such 


112  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

blarney ;  but  she  was  so  disappointed  at  being  com- 
pelled to  stay  at  home  and  keep  house  after  her  mother 
died,  instead  of  teaching  and  studying  vocal  music, 
that  she  gradually  degenerated  into  the  morose,  fickle- 
tempered  creature  you  see  her.  It  will  take  years  to 
put  that  folly  out  of  her  head.  Whatever  you  do, 
don't  encourage  her  in  it." 

"  Let  me  see,"  reflected  Lele,  when  alone ;  "  Syd 
reads  too  much  and  therefore  is  a  failure  as  a  farmer. 
Ed  is  uneducated  and  so  fit  for  nothing  but  farming. 
Jennie,  being  a  woman,  must  remain  at  home  and 
drudge  for  this  large  family,  while  the  whole  bent  of 
her  nature  is  toward  music,  and  even  a  piano  denied 
her.  My  dear  father,  you  are  short-sighted  and  nar- 
row-minded. Yes,  you  are  cruel  to  force  these  young 
people  out  of  the  course  Nature  intended  them  to  pur- 
sue into  one  wholly  distasteful." 

Unpleasant  as  it  had  been  to  listen  to  these  crit- 
icisms, Lele  had  been  glad  enough  to  get  this  new 
inkling  into  the  cause  of  Jean's  acrimony.  It  would 
help  her  much  in  her  intercourse  with  the  wayward 
girl.  But  to  hear  her  father,  a  hale,  hearty  man,  in 
the  prime  of  life,  condemning  his  sons  in  such  unmeas- 
ured terms,  made  her  ears  tingle.  It  was  not  only 
the  boys  that  had  failed  in  management,  the  father 
proclaimed  himself  openly  as  the  greater  failure  —  a 
neglectful,  unwise  parent. 

"  I  should  have  been  like  the  rest  if  I  had  grown 
up  under  his  influence,"  she  thought. 


BETHANY.  113 

She  went  to  the  kitchen  to  see  if  dinner  was  ready, 
as  it  was  past  12,  and  she  wished  to  leave  for  Sunday- 
school  before  i.  To  her  surprise,  the  fire  had  not 
even  been  kindled,  Jennie  not  being  in  the  habit  of 
getting  dinner  until  2  o'clock  on  Sunday. 

"  I  had  intended  to  start  for  Sunday-school  before 
i,"  said  Lele,  vexed  in  spite  of  her  efforts  at  self-con- 
trol. 

"  Oh,  well,  I'll  kindle  the  fire  an'  get  dinner  as 
soon  as  I  can,"  said  Jennie,  with  the  air  of  a  kitchen 
martyr.  "  The  chicken  won't  cook  in  half  an  hour, 
of  course." 

"  Don't  hurry  dinner  on  my  account ;  I'll  eat  a 
piece,"  said  Lele,  making  a  supreme  effort  to  speak 
cheerfully. 

"  Eat  a  piece !"  Jennie  looked  at  Lele  as  though  it 
was  she  whose  manners  were  at  fault. 

"  I'll  wait  for  church  if  you'll  go  with  me,"  said 
Lele,  conquering  her  temper  at  last. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Jennie,  dryly ;  "  I  don't  care 
to  walk  a  mile  and  a  half  through  the  dust  at  this 
time  of  day.  One  trip  will  do  you,  I  guess,"  she  added, 
sourly.  "  The  elite  of  the  neighborhood  will  sweep  by 
you  in  their  fine  carriages.  You'll  be  covered  with 
dust  from  head  to  foot." 

"  Dust,  heat  and  fine  carriages  have  no  terrors  for 
me,"  said  Lele,  taking  a  bite  out  of  a  green  apple  that 
Cora  had  offered  her.  "  You  needn't  hurry  dinner, 

(8) 


114  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOB. 

Jennie,"  she  repeated.  "  I'll  eat  some  bread  and  butter 
and  have  my  chicken  and  canned  corn  when  I  return." 

"  Never  saw  such  a  girl  in  my  life !  "  declared 
Charlie,  when  Lele  was  out  of  hearing.  "  She'd  walk 
up  to  a  government  mule  and  take  him  by  the  heels 
for  a  dare,  I  do  believe.  If  she  keeps  on  she'll  make 
Sister  Sniffles  ashamed  of  herself  yet." 

Tude,  when  found,  would  not  consent  at  first  to 
leave  without  her  dinner,  when  they  were  to  have 
chicken  and  canned  corn,  not  to  mention  peach  pre- 
serves and  float.  But  Lele's  conxing  prevailed,  and 
the  two  soon  set  out,  after  lunching  on  cold  fried  ham 
and  bread  and  butter.  Jennie  watched  them  enviously 
from  the  kitchen  window,  for  Lele  was  dressed  very 
little  better  after  all  than  she  would  have  been.  She 
had  set  out  suitably  clad  for  a  dusty  walk,  leaving 
all  her  finery  at  home. 

"  I  might  have  gone  with  her,  after  all,'  she  thought, 
discontentedly.  "  I  guess  she'll  not  attract  much  atten- 
tion in  that  rig." 

Lele's  total  lack  of  self-consciousness  made  every- 
thing she  wore  seem  suited  to  her ;  but  Jennie  was  the 
style  of  girl  to  require  handsome  clothes ;  her  con- 
sciousness of  every  little  defect  made  the  defect  itself 
glaring.  In  consequence,  a  costume  that  one  could 
have  worn  v<ith  ease  and  grace  would  have  racked  the 
other's  soul  with  torture. 

The  walk  was,  as  Lele  had  anticipated,  long,  hot 
and  dusty.  Like  one  of  Mr.  Fairfax's  "  philippics,"  it 


BETHANY.  115 

seemed  interminable ;  but  the  end  was  reached  at  last. 
The  gray  stone  walls  of  Bethany  Church  appeared 
among  the  trees,  and  Lele  entered  upon  a  new  expe- 
rience as  she  passed  its  weather-beaten  portals. 

Little  whiffs  of  heated  air  came  in  through  the  long 
windows  of  Bethany  Church,  and  made  those  who  were 
reckless  enough  to  venture  forth  to  Sunday-school  on 
such  a  burning  afternoon  more  acutely  conscious  of 
discomfort.  Even  Ward  Collins  looked  sleepy,  and 
Ward  was  noted  for  being  bright  and  jolly  even  under 
the  most  trying  circumstances. 

"  How  dull  you  are,  Polly,"  said  Keith  Hubbard ; 
"must  have  been  up  unusually  late  last  night." 

"  Yes,  I  was  over  at  Lowell  at  a  fete ;  had  a  beastly 
slow  time  —  not  a  girl  there  I  knew !  " 

"And  how  did  it  happen  Maud  didn't  go?"  asked 
Keith  with  assumed  carelessness. 

"  Oh,  we've  quit." 

"  You're  always  telling  that,  and  yet  you  never  do 
quit.  I  guess  you're  likely  to  marry." 

"  You're  badly  off,  old  fellow.  I'm  not  going  there 
any  more  at  all.  Maud  keeps  too  many  fellows  on 
the  string  to  suit  me." 

"You  never  flirt,  of  course." 

"  Not  very  seriously.  There  come  Morris  and 
Ol  Stuart  arm  in  arm,  as  usual.  They  make  me  tired." 

"  I  say,  Polly,  since  you're  out  with  Maud,"  sug- 
gested Keith  with  studied  indifference,  "  I  guess  I'll 
call  there  this  evening." 


ii6  THE;  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE. 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  Ward,  listlessly. 

"  There  she  comes  up  the  aisle  now,"  said  Keith  in 
a  nervous  whisper.  "  Polly,  I'm  in  luck ;  she's  favored 
me  with  a  beaming  smile  and  never  glanced  at  you." 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  Ward  again,  in  a  tone  of  deeper 
dejection. 

"But,  Polly"— 

"  Don't  Polly  me,"  retorted  Ward,  beginning  to  be 
half  angry.  And  then  suddenly,  as  his  eyes  wandered 
to  the  door,  they  lit  up  with  a  flash  of  delight.  "  Oh, 
Hubby,  who  is  that  deliciously  pretty  girl  coming 
in?  She's  a  new  one  to  me." 

"  That  ?  Old  Fairfax's  daughter,  I  suppose.  I 
heard  she  had  come.  She's  a  right  good-looking  girl." 

"Hubby,  you're  an  idiot.  She's  as  sweet  as  a 
peach,  and  I'm  dying  for  an  introduction.  Stay!  I 
think  I  can  contrive  to  get  one." 

He  beckoned  the  superintendent  and  whispered  a 
few  words  in  his  ear.  There  were  objections,  but 
Ward  persisted,  and  finally,  as  he  had  requested, 
Miss  Fairfax  was  induced  to  teach  the  class  consisting 
of  Ward  Collins,  Keith  Hubbard,  Morris  St.  John  and 
Ol  Stuart. 

Lele  looked  somewhat  rebellious  when  she  dis- 
covered who  were  to  be  her  pupils ;  but  the  whole  class 
and  superintendent  offering  one  combined  entreaty  for 
her  to  remain,  she  took  charge,  temporarily,  in  the 
absence  of  the  regular  teacher. 

Lele  wore  a  pale  blue  gingham  dress  very  plainly 


BETHANY.  117 

made,  and  a  wide,  drooping  hat  of  rough,  white  straw. 
She  was  a  slender,  graceful  girl,  and  everything  she 
wore  seemed  suited  to  her.  No  one  ever  saw  her 
with  an  ill-fitting  gown,  or  glove,  or  shoe.  But  she 
did  not  care  for  dress,  except  that  it  should  be  suited 
to  the  occasion.  She  would  never  have  thought  of 
donning  handsome  and  stylish  garments  to  walk  a 
mile  and  a  half  through  the  dust  with  Tude  to  church. 
But  she  would  have  been  a  fascinating  girl  in  a  much 
less  attractive  costume  than  she  wore.  The  exquisite 
tints  of  her  complexion,  the  lovely  eyes  under  the  long, 
brown  lashes,  the  delicately  penciled  eyebrows,  glossy 
brown  hair  and  sensitive,  sweet,  expressive  mouth 
would  have  won  attention  for  her  from  any  one.  Lele 
was  not  a  girl  to  be  slighted  on  any  account,  and,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  she  never  had  been  slighted  until  she 
came  home.  As  she  sat  there,  chatting  over  the  lesson 
with  those  four  respectful,  eagerly  attentive  young 
men  she  felt  in  her  natural  element  again.  She  seemed 
to  have  re-entered  a  healthy,  happy,  care-free,  social 
atmosphere. 

There  was  five  minutes'  intermission  before  service 
began,  and  Ward,  at  least,  made  good  use  of  the  time 
in  forming  her  acquaintance.  The  impression  the  gay, 
good-natured  young  fellow  made  was  far  from  dis- 
agreeable. 

A  long,  dull  sermon  was  preached  to  a  weary  and 
nodding  congregation.  The  flies  buzzed  in  the  win- 
dows, the  hot  sun  poured  in  through  the  uncurtained 


n8  THE  MAX  WITH  THE  HOE. 

panes.;  in  the  tree-tops  outside  the  faint  breezes  sick- 
ened and  died.  The  air  was  full  of  far-away  summer 
sounds,  and  the  perfume  of  roses  in  the  church-yard. 
A  few  couples  sat  on  slabs  under  the  weeping  willow 
and  flirted  decorously  all  during  the  sermon,  under 
the  scrutinizing  eye  of  Mrs.  Stuart,  who  sat  bolt 
upright  in  one  of  the  front  pews  and  noted  the  text 
and  points  of  the  sermon  in  her  intervals  of  espionage 
over  the  young  people  in  the  churchyard.  Airs.  Stuart 
was  more  than  a  pillar ;  she  was  a  sort  of  modern, 
Americanized  Mrs.  McFadyan.  The  sick  and  missing 
were  frequently  regaled  with  a  rehash  of  the  sermon 
from  her  lips. 

Maud  St.  John,  far  less  devout,  was  sorry  through- 
out the  sermon  that  her  propensity  for  flirting  had 
temporarily  alienated  Ward.  Though  she  felt  that  his 
attentions  to  the  young  stranger  were  probably  only 
prompted  by  jealousy  —  which  indeed  was  largely  true 
—  it  was  possible  that  he  might  soon  become  really 
interested  in  a  girl  like  Lele,  which  was  highly  unde- 
sirable, since  Ward  was  so  far  the  best  '  'catch  "  she 
had  ever  found. 

Keith  Hubbard  sat  also  with  his  mind  abstracted 
from  the  sermon  through  the  whole  preaching  hour. 
If  Lele  only  would  captivate  Ward,  and  thus  leave 
him  a  fair  field  in  which  to  win  Maud !  Alice  Stuart, 
in  her  turn,  cast  shy  glances  at  Keith,  his  image  sadly 
disturbing  the  reflection  of  the  sermon  in  her  soul. 
Keith  was  the  onlv  beau  Alice  had  ever  had  in  all  the 


BETHANY.  119 

twenty  years  of  her  life,  and  he  had  only  occasionally 
called  when  Maud  had  other  company.  Alice,  who 
was  a  devout  little  thing,  prayed  fervently  in  her  foolish 
young  heart,  not  for  the  heathen,  as  the  minister  sug- 
gested, but  that  Ward  would  "  make  it  up  for  good  " 
with  Maud,  and  Keith  return  to  her. 

Mrs.  Stuart  always  required  the  children  to  repeat 
the  text  when  they  returned  from  church.  Alice  won- 
dered if  she  ever  could  forget  this  one : 

"As  a  lily  among  thorns,  so  is  my  lore  among  the 
daughters !  "  shouted  forth  at  short  intervals  until  it 
finally  rang  meaningless. 

"That's  just  twenty-five  times  he  has  said  it," 
whispered  Ward  in  Lele's  ear.  "  I  do  believe  he  means 
the  text  expressly  for  you.  There  goes  twenty-six,  I 
declare !  "  And  again,  for  lack  of  discourse,  appar- 
ently, the  same  words  were  called  out  in  tones  of 
thunder  from  the  pulpit. 

"  It's  appropriate,"  said  Ward.  "  I  never  shall  for- 
get it." 

The  deacons  sat  like  graven  images  in  the  Amen 
corner,  one  fast  asleep,  the  other  busily  speculating  on 
the  probabilities  of  rain  before  he  got  his  wheat  all 
put  up.  The  preacher  repeated  the  text  a  few  more 
times,  prosed  away  another  half-hour  without  once 
formulating  the  shadow  of  a  practical  idea,  and  finally, 
to  everybody's  intense  relief,  got  through,  and  the  con- 
gregation, making  a  combined  rush  for  the  shady 
churchyard,  settled  down  to  what  seemed  the  real 


I2O  THE   MAN   WITH    THE   HOE. 

object  of  their  coming  out  on  such  a  blistering  after- 
noon —  a  thorough  exchange  of  gossip.  The  only 
ones  who  did  not  enjoy  it  were  twelve  men  who  had 
remained  outside  to  discuss  chinch  bugs,  and  were  now 
out  of  something  to  talk  about. 

Ward  Collins  was  beside  Lele  with  that  perfect 
assurance  of  being  wanted  that  not  more  than  one 
in  a  thousand  can  assume  without  appearing  "  push- 
ing." 

"  You'll  not  mind  if  I  stay  wifeh  you  and  introduce 
you  to  some  people  ?  "  he  questioned  with  boyish  frank- 
ness. "  I  don't  believe  any  of  your  folks  are  here,  are 
they?" 

"  None  but  Tude,  and  I  don't  see  her,"  replied  Lele, 
glancing  about  her. 

"  I  saw  Tude  and  some  of  those  Grimes  children 
chasing  a  pig  up  the  road  shortly  after  Sunday-school 
—  one  of  their  pets,  probably,  that  had  escaped  from 
its  pen.  So  as  you  are  alone,  I'll  be  glaehto  accom- 
pany you  home,  if  you'll  let  me,"  looking  at  her  with 
heightened  color  and  just  the  faintest  show  of  diffi- 
dence. 

"  How  kind  you  are,"  said  Lele,  with'  graceful 
acceptance  of  the  proffered  attention.  "  I  hope  I  shall 
not  be  taking  you  out  of  your  way." 

"  No ;  you  couldn't !  "  with  a  smile  and  glance  that 
turned  the  words  into  a  compliment. 

Ward  introduced  a  nice,  fair,  middle-aged  woman 
and  a  little  bov  in  blonde  curls  and  the  sweetest  of 


BETHANY.  121 

Fauntleroy  suits,  as  his  mother  and  his  little  brother. 
The  latter  glanced  knowingly  at  Lele  while  his  mother 
talked. 

"  I  know  you,  I  do,"  he  said.  "  Don't  let  on  what 
I  told  you,  will  you  ?  " 

"Why,  when  did  you  ever  meet  Miss  Fairfax?" 
asked  Ward.  "  I  guess  you  must  be  mistaken  in  the 
lady,  Roy." 

"  I  guess  I  ain't,  either,"  retorted  Roy.  "Didn't 
you  see  me  playin'  in  the  mud  one  evenin',"  appealing 
to  Lele. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  I  did.  I  hope  you  caught  no  cold 
from  playing  in  the  mud." 

"  No ;  but  Ward  found  me  an'  paddled  me  for 
stayin'  out  so  late,  an'  I  throwed  mud  on  his  white 
vest  so  he  couldn't  go  to  the  party  at  Stuart's,"  said 
Roy,  holding  his  hat,  brim  down,  with  both  hands,  and 
kicking  out  first  one  short  fat  leg  and  then  the  other. 

"  Roy  is  a  case,  Miss  Fairfax,"  said  Ward.  "And 
some  time  when  he  is  holding  to  his  hat-brim  in  that 
style  it  will  give  way  and  let  him  fall  over  backward 
and  break  his  backbone.  Lots  of  little  boys,"  added 
the  teasing  brother  gravely,  "  break  their  backs  in 
just  that  way,  and  have  to  crawl  around  like  wroolly 
worms  all  the  rest  of  their  days." 

"  Oh,  you  big  story-teller !  "  defiantly.  "  You're 
always  tellin'  me  that,  an'  I  ain't  never  fell  yet,  an' 
I  ain't  goin'  to  ;  so  there !  "  But,  as  if  in  contradiction, 
an  extra  flourish  of  his  defiant  heels  stretched  him 


122  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

flat  on  the  grass,  where  his  terrified  howls  brought  a 
number  of  girls  to  his  assistance. 

Maud  St.  John  was  the  first  to  snatch  up  the  "  dear, 
darling  child  ''  and  ask  if  he  was  much  hurt,  knock- 
ing over  a  poor  woman's  toddling  baby  in  her  excite- 
ment, and  not  even  pausing  to  inquire  whether  it  was 
hurt.  Whereat  Ward,  repressing  a  smile,  winked  at 
Keith,  who,  in  turn,  repressed  a  sigh,  and  walked  off. 

"  How  do,  Maud,"  said  Ward,  with  just  a  spice 
of  malice  in  his  gay  voice.  "My  friend,  Miss  St.  John, 
Miss  Fairfax." 

Maud  held  out  her  hand  with  a  most  captivating 
smile. 

"  So  glad  to  welcome  you  to  Bethany  Ridge,"  she 
said.  "  I  heard  you  had  come  here  to  stay,  and  hope 
it  is  true." 

"  No,  Maud,  you  don't  hope  any  such  thing,"  Ward 
thought,  while  Lele  was  discoursing  upon  the  prob- 
able brevity  of  her  visit.  "  But  I  hope  she  will." 

Lele  had  seen  Maud  and  a  pretty  brunette  whis- 
pering about  her  over  their  fans.  Before  long  the 
pretty  brunette  came  up  and  was  introduced  as  his 
sister.  She  was  very  unlike  Ward  in  manner  and 
appearance,  and  did  not  make  any  friendly  advances 
toward  improving  her  acquaintance  with  Lele.  She 
merely  bowed,  spoke  a  few  polite  nothings  as  she  took 
in  the  details  of  Lele's  toi1ette,  and  then  excused  herself 
on  the  plea  that  her  escort  was  waiting.  Morris 
St.  John  had  just  driven  up  to  the  church  steps  and 


BETHANY.  123 

stood  ready  to  assist  her  into  the  buggy.  He  bowed 
and  smiled  to  Lele  as  they  drove  away,  but  Trix  never 
turned  her  head.  Maud  St.  John  was  her  best  friend, 
and  it  always  angered  her  to  see  Ward  interested  in 
any  other  girl.  Trix  meant  that  some  day  Aland 
should  be  a  sister  to  her  in  more  ways  than  one.  As 
for  those  Fairfaxes  —  bah !  she  hated  them. 

"  If  you  are  not  particular  about  going  soon,  we'll 
not  hurry,"  said  Ward,  in  that  jolly  tone,  as  Lele 
began  to  recover  from  the  chill  of  his  sister's  presence. 
"  There  are  lots  of  people  here  who  will  be  glad  to 
meet  you,  Miss  Fairfax." 

Lele  was  in  no  hurry,  so  they  lingered,  and  Ward 
contrived  to  introduce  her  to  nearly  all  the  young 
people  present.  The  St.  John  girls  interested  her 
more  than  the  others,  Maud  in  particular,  since  she  was 
supposed  to  have  wrought  such  havoc  with  Syd's  heart. 
Maud  was  a  blonde  and  very  attractive.  Kitty,  though 
plainer,  seemed  far  more  friendly.  She  would  have 
monopolized  the  whole  attention  if  she  could.  Charlie 
had  aptly  nick-named  her  "  Maud's  Burr,"  because  she 
always  attached  herself  to  whoever  would  otherwise 
be  in  Maud's  way.  She  was  not  clever,  but  what  she 
lacked  in  wit,  she  made  up  in  cheek.  And  it  was  won- 
derful how  useful  she  could  make  herself  upon  occa- 
sion. 

The  half-hour  allotted  to  gossip  sped  quicklv 
enough,  and  Ward,  always  delighted  to  form  the 
acquaintance  of  a  pretty  girl,  and  one  who,  moreover, 


124  THE   MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

could  prove  herself  attractive  to  others,  felt  strangely 
elated  when  he  assisted  her  into  his  new  buggy  and 
drove  away  with  his  matched  blacks  prancing  in  their 
silver-mounted  harness.  The  other  fellows  stood  back 
and  stared  at  him  in  blank  envy.  Ward  laughed  when 
he  thought  of  the  row  of  dolorous  faces. 


CHAPTER  XL 
VENUS  AND  DIANA. 

"  I  guess  you  came  the  Ridge  road,  didn't  you,  Miss 
Fairfax?  "  Ward  asked.  "  It's  the  nearest,  but,  if  you 
don't  mind,  we'll  go  back  by  the  sawmill.  It  isn't  half 
so  dusty,  and  besides  you'll  get  a  chance  to  see  the  new 
pike  your  father  is  interested  in." 

"  Oh,  let's  go  by  way  of  the  new  pike,"  said  Lele. 
"  I  may  not  get  another  chance  of  seeing  it  while  I'm 
here." 

"Are  you  going  so  soon  ?  "  looking  disappointed. 

"  The  last  of  the  week,  I  think." 

"The  last  of  the  week?"  echoed  Ward.  "Why, 
Miss  Fairfax,  don't  think  of  going  away  until  after  the 
Danbury  Fair.  It's  the  event  of  the  whole  summer. 
Everybody  goes,  and  the  ones  who  don't  have  a  good 
time  must  be  incapable  of  enjoying  themselves.  I 
often  wonder  if  there  was  another  set  of  young  people 
who  have  as  much  fun  as  we  on  Bethany  Ridge,  espe- 
cially during  the  fair.  It's  a  carnival,  I  tell  you." 

"  Which  proves  that  you  must  be  '  in  the  swim  ' 
in  order  to  see  the  bright  side  of  life,"  thought  Lele. 

"  I  was  hoping  I  might  have  the  pleasure  of  being 
your  escort  on  Thursday  or  Friday/'  he  went  on.  "  It's 
not  far  off  —  only  till  the  first  week  in  August." 

(125) 


126  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

"That  seems  very  distant  to  me/'  said  Lele,  thought- 
fully. "  I  could  not  make  any  engagement  so  far 
ahead,  thank  you." 

"  If,  however,  you  are  here  at  that  time,  I  want 
you  to  remember  that  my  buggy  is  at  your  service." 

"  I  am  not  in  the  least  danger  of  forgetting,"  said 
Lele,  smiling. 

As  the  buggy  glided  into  a  byroad  shaded  by  tall 
trees,  Ward  drew  rein  and  made  the  high-stepping, 
shiny-coated  steeds  travel  at  a  more  leisurely  speed. 

"  I  like  this  road  on  a  hot  afternoon,"  he  said,  with 
a  sigh  of  content  which  was  the  very  keynote  of  his 
gay,  care-free  nature.  "  It  is  so  cool  and  delicious 
here  that  one  does  not  even  wish  to  hurry,  though  a 
mad  race  through  the  dust  would  suit  my  horses  much 
better.  How  do  you  like  my  new  matches,  Miss 
Fairfax?  This  is  the  first  time  I  ever  drove  them 
together." 

"  I  never  saw  a  handsomer  team,"  said  Lele,  think- 
ing how  delightful  it  would  be  to  possess  them. 
"  Have  you  just  bought  them?" 

"  No ;  I've  had  the  off  one  for  three  years  —  raised 
it,  in  fact.  The  other  came  into  my  possession  last 
week.  It's  a  colt  that  Syd  McKnight  raised,  intending 
to  keep  it  as  a  buggy  horse  for  his  sisters.  But  for 
some  reason  his  step-father  sold  it  and  the  buggy,  too, 
just  as  its  training  was  completed.  We  had  offered  to 
buy  it  from  Syd,  but  he  wouldn't  part  with  the  animal 
at  all.  Isn't  she  a  beauty?  Syd  and  I  got  up  quite  a 


VENUS   AND   DIANA.  127 

rivalry  to  see  who  could  keep  his  colt  in  the  best  con- 
dition. We  were  as  careful  of  them  as  if  they  were 
worth  thousands.  After  all  the  horse  names  in  the 
calendar  had  been  suggested,  we  named  them  Venus 
and  Diana,  for  we  wanted  nothing  common  like  Bet 
or  Doll,  Kit  or  Bell.  Oh,  dear,  what  a  pet  Venus 
used  to  be  at  your  house.  And  I  don't  wonder  when 
I  think  what  a  time  they  had  raising  her,  and  how, 
owing  to  their  bad  fences,  she  had  been  hurt  several 
times,  and  doctored  and  cared  for  like  a  human  being. 
You  ought  to  have  heard  the  girls  cry  when  the  man 
took  her  away.  Even  Syd  did,  I  guess." 

"  I  don't  see  how  papa  could  sell  her  if  she  belonged 
to  Syd,"  said  Lele,  indignantly. 

"Don't  you?"  Ward  flecked  a  horsefly  skillfully 
from  one  of  Diana's  shining  flanks  and  hesitated.  "  I 
don't  care  to  meddle  in  your  affairs,  Miss  Fairfax,  so 
I  won't  say  hozv  he  came  to  dispose  of  her..  It  might 
be  that  I  didn't  get  the  story  straight,  anyhow.  I 
wouldn't  have  mentioned  the  story  at  all,  only  Syd  was 
unjust  enough  to  blame  me  for  having  her  sold.  I 
offered  to  buy  her  of  him,  to  be  sure,  for  I  thought 
it  might  be  he'd  have  to  sell,  and  if  he  did,  I  wanted 
her.  I  wouldn't  have  resorted  to  trickery  to  get  her 
from  Syd  for  the  world,  though  there's  a  current  belief 
here  on  Bethany  Ridge  that  horse-trading  sins  don't 
count.  But  I  wouldn't  have  driven  Venus  to-day  if 
I'd  known  I  was  going  to  your  home,  for  Syd  won't 
like  *o  see  me  driving  her.  I  wouldn't  if  I  were  in 


128  THE   MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

his  place.  I  never  saw  any  one  so  cut  up  as  he  was 
after  his  step-father  sold  her.  But  some  people  never 
consider  —  oh!  I  mustn't  forget  that  I'm  talking  about 
your  father,  Miss  Fairfax." 

"Were  you  and  Syd  friends  before  that?" 

They  were  skirting  the  grim  black  sawmill  with 
its  piles  of  lumber. 

"  We  used  to  go  to  school  together,  and  were  great 
friends  indeed.  Jen  and  I  were  friends,  too.  In  fact, 
we  were  sweethearts  from  the  time  we  were  in  our 
A-b-Abs  until  we  got  into  our  teens.  Then  somehow 
we  drifted  apart.  She  used  to  keep  me  supplied  with 
cake,  because  I  never  could  get  enough  —  I  tell  you, 
her  mamma  could  make  good  ones !  —  and  I  provided 
her  liberally  with  nuts  and  apples,  made  rings  for  her 
out  of  bone  buttons,  and  baskets  and  other  trinkets 
from  peach  stones.  We  were  happy,  rollicking  chil- 
dren in  those  days,  Miss  Fairfax." 

Ward  paused,  but  Lele  appeared  so  interested  that 
he  involuntarily  continued: 

"  Jen  and  I  were  always  in  the  same  classes,  but 
Syd,  though  nearer  my  own  age,  was  away  ahead  of 
me  in  everything.  He  used  to  solve  my  problems  for 
me,  and  help  me  over  the  hard  places.  We  were  seat- 
mates  year  after  year,  and  as  I  was  usually  in  mischief, 
his  good  conduct  was  all  that  saved  me  from  disgrace. 
Whenever  the  teacher  became  aware  that,  there  was 
disorder  in  our  part  of  the  room,  I  was  generally  down 
half  under  the  desk  looking  for  a  book,  while  Syd  at 


VENUS   AND    DIANA.  129 

A 

my  side  was  working  away  at  his  everlasting  arith- 
metic, steady  as  a  clock.  My !  what  larks  I  had  with 
old  Syd  to  screen  me !  " 

Ward  looked  a  little  pensive  when  he  recalled  the 
happy  old  school  days  gone  forever,  and  with  them 
much  of  the  friendship  that  had  added  zest  to  their 
joy. 

"  Syd  and  Jen  are  changed  since  then,"  he  resumed. 
"  They  have  grown  so  reserved  and  cool  that  I  hardly 
know  what  to  make  of  them.  It  isn't  all  about  Venus, 
of  course."  A  pause.  "  But  now  I've  bought  her  I 
don't  expect  either  of  them  will  ever  speak  to  me 
again.  I  know  I  shouldn't  criticise  them  to  you  " — 

"  It  isn't  as  though  I  had  always  known  them.  I 
am  a  stranger  in  my  own  father's  house,  Mr.  Collins. 
You  are  much  better  acquainted  with  the  family  than 
I  am,"  Lele  replied.  "  But  I  have  been  led  to  believe 
that  they  have  reason  to  be  a  little  cool  toward  some  of 
their  neighbors." 

"  The  Collinses,  for  instance,"  said  Ward,  with  a 
slight  grimace.  "  Well,  I  know  there  are  financial  rea- 
sons for  both  parties  being  a  little  standoffish.  You 
remember  the  old  story  of  the  '  poor  debtor  ' — '  the 
unfortunate  debtor ' —  that  used  to  be  in  one  of  the 
old  school  readers  ?  A  man  is  apt  to  consider  a  neigh- 
bor a  public  benefactor  if  he  will  assume  the  character 
of  creditor ;  but  the  longer  he  keeps  that  character,  the 
.more  odious  he  gets  in  the  eyes  of  his  debtor.  My 
father's  heart  isn't  made  of  eider-down,  to  be  sure; 

(9) 


130  THE;  MAX  WITH  THE  HOE. 

but  neither  is  he  the  ogre  that  some  suppose.  You 
would  rather  like  him,  I  think,  if  you  knew  him." 

"  It's  absurd,"  Ward  went  on,  "  for  Syd  and  Jennie 
to  consider  the  Collins  family  mortal  enemies  just 
because  their  step-father  owes  my  father  money.  But 
here  I  am  running  on  about  my  affairs  like  a  con- 
founded goose.  Let's  talk  of  something  else." 

"  No,  go  on,"  coaxed  Lele.  "  I  want  to  get  a  cor- 
rect estimate,  if  I  can,  of  Syd's  and  Jennie's  characters. 
I  confess  they  puzzle  me." 

"  I  was  just  going  to  add:  I  know  there  are  people 
in  the  world  who  have  been  less  lucky  than  I  have,  and 
can't,  in  consequence,  enjoy  themselves  as  well.  And 
from  such  I  take  a  good  deal,  though  the  treatment 
I  get  from  Syd  and  Jen  fairly  paralyzes  me  sometimes. 
But  here  we  are.  Will  you  hold  the  lines  while  I  open 
the  gate?" 

Ward's  fingers  touched  the  small  white  hands  that 
grasped  the  lines,  and  a  conscious  look  dawned  in  each 
pair  of  eyes.  He  hitched  the  matched  blacks  to  the 
rack  with  nervous  haste,  and  blushed  with  pleasure  as 
he  assisted  Lele  to  alight.  He  wished  that  he  might 
have  been  longer  about  it.  For  the  twentieth  time 
Ward  had  fallen  dead  in  love  at  first  sight. 

"  I'm  afraid  I've  made  the  drive  awfully  dull  for 
you,"  he  said,  as  he  opened  the  little  gate. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  indeed ! "  said  Lele,  with  burning 
cheeks. 

"  It  was  so  short,"  sighed  Ward.     "  We  might  have 


VENUS   AND   DIANA.  13! 

gone  ever  so  much  further."  ("And  I  might  have 
talked  of  something  better  worth  while  than  the  crank- 
inesses of  these  confounded  Fairfaxes,"  he  added,  men- 
tally.) 

"  I  enjoyed  it  very  much,"  said  Lele. 

"  I  wonder,"  thought  Ward,  "  how  I  could  have 
enjoyed  the  Fair  so  much  last  year  without  this  delight- 
ful girl.  How  lucky  I  am  to  have  met  her !  " 

He  felt  as  though  stepping  on  air  as  he  went  with 
Lele  along  the  flower-bordered  gravel  walk,  up  the 
veranda  steps,  and  into  the  stuffy  and  gloomy  parlor, 
which  their  presence  seemed  to  brighten  and  renovate 
strangely. 

No  one  would  have  supposed,  from  the  solitary 
appearance  of  the  old  farm  house,  that  the  hall  had, 
when  they  first  came  in  sight,  been  full  of  young 
people,  some  reading,  others  talking.  A  signal  from 
Tude  had  startled  the  whole  group. 

"Yes,  sir!"  she  excitedly  exclaimed,  peering  down 
the  road  through  the  honeysuckle  vines,  "  she's  a-com- 
ing,  and  she's  got  a  new  beau,  too.  Ward  Collins  is 
a-bringing  her  in  his  new  buggy,  all  a-glittering  in  the 
sun  —  enough  to  dazzle  your  eyes.  Can't  I  run  down 
the  lane  and  open  the  gate  for  them  and  tell  them  about 
the  pig?" 

"  No,  you  can't"  said  Jennie.  "  Clear  out  of  here, 
all  of  you.  Who  wants  Ward  Collins  to  come  in  and 
catch  you  in  your  bare  feet  and  dirty  clothes  ?  " 

"  Clear  the  track  !"  shouted  Clem,  making  a  hideous 


132  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

racket  in  escaping  through  the  back  porch   into  the 
dining  room. 

"  Must  we  all  hustle  ? "  asked  Charlie,  who  lay 
comfortably  on  the  floor  reading  the  new  book  which 
Lele  had  given  him.  "  I'd  rather  stay  back  of  the  door 
and  trip  him  up  scientifically  as  he  comes  in." 

"Charlie  Fairfax!  Get  up,  quick,"  said  Jennie, 
positively. 

"  Now,  Caudle,  listen  to  reason,"  went  on  the  pro- 
voking boy.  "  If  I  trip  him  up  and  he  falls  and  sprains 
his  ankle  " — 

Jean  cut  short  his  remarks  with  one  of  her  lightning 
glances,  and  taking  Tude  silently  by  the  arm,  jerked 
her  (still  pleading  to  be  allowed  to  stay  and  tell  about 
the  pig)  across  the  porch  and  into  the  dining  room, 
followed  slowly  by  Charlie  and  Cora.  The  whole 
party  continued  in  full  retreat  until  they  reached  the 
kitchen,  where  Syd,  having  spent  most  of  the  day  in 
wandering  over  the  farm,  deep  in  thought  over  his 
seemingly  hopeless  future,  now  sat  reading. 

"  Dear  me  !  What  is  the  matter  ?"  he  asked,  laying 
down  his  paper.  "  Have  you  seen  a  rattlesnake  in 
the  honeysuckles  ?  " 

"  Worse !     Lele's  got  a  beau,"  answered  Charlie. 

Syd  experienced  pangs  of  guilty  disappointment. 
All  his  airy  castles  of  the  morning  and  of  last  night's 
vigils  sank  into  shadowy  ruin. 

"  I  didn't  know  she  had  any  acquaintances  here 


VENUS   AND  DIANA.  133 

except  ourselves,"  he  contrived  to  say.  "  Wasn't  Tude 
with  her?" 

"  Yes,  but  she  had  to  bring  back  one  of  the  pigs 
that  had  got  out  —  saved  her  bacon,  you  might  say," 
Charlie  answered ;  "  so  Lele  was  left.  Did  you  ever 
know  a  member  of  this  family  to  go  anywhere  that  we 
didn't  have  to  stop  to  fix  a  fence,  or  bring  back  a  hog, 
or  drive  somebody's  cows  out  of  the  corn  ?  " 

"  It  is  Ward  Collins  who  has  brought  her  home, 
Syd,"  explained  Cora,  making  a  little  face. 

Syd  felt  much  as  he  would  have  done  had  she 
announced  the  failure  of  a  bank  in  which  all  the  money 
he  possessed  was  deposited. 

"And  he's  driving  Venus,"  added  Clem.  "  She 
shines  like  black  satin,  and  keeps  looking  around  as 
if  she  knew  she  had  come  home  and  wanted  to  stay. 
Jen,  can't  I  go  out  and  give  her  a  lump  of  sugar?  " 

"  No,"  said  Jen,  harshly,  but  her  lashes  were  heavy 
with  tears. 

"  No  use,  Clem ;  she's  not  our  horse  now,"  said 
Cora,  sighing.  "  It  seems  like  a  dream  that  Venus 
should  belong  to  Ward  Collins." 

Jennie  stood  doggedly  with  her  back  to  the  window 
that  she  might  not  see  her  former  pet,  for  Venus  had 
loved  Jen  and  followed  her  about  through  the  yard 
like  a  dog.  The  creature  seemed  to  possess  almost 
human  intelligence,  and  would  pick  grass  daintily  all 
around  the  flower-beds,  never  trampling  a  flower  or 


134  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE- 

vine ;  and  the  children  had  taught  her  almost  as  many 
tricks  as  a  show  horse. 

"  She  knows  she's  come  home,  bless  her  dear  old 
bones,"  said  Charlie,  with  a  little  break  in  his  boyish 
voice. 

"If  we  had  only  known  what  we  were  raising  her 
for  " —  began  Cora  in  her  most  plaintive  accents. 

Syd  couldn't  endure  any  more.  "  Cora,  stop,"  he 
said,  impatiently.  "  What's  the  use  of  all  this  ?  She's 
only  a  horse,  and  we've  lost  her." 

"  Yes,  and  we'll  never  have  another  as  good. 
That's  flat,"  mourned  Cora. 

"  Well,  for  pity's  sake  talk  of  something  else.  I'm 
sick  of  this." 

There  was  a  long  pause. 

"  Jean,  you'll  have  to  go  in  and  entertain  Lele  and 
Ward,"  said  Cora,  trying  to  put  Venus  out  of  her  mind. 

"  I  don't  intend  to,"  said  Jennie. 

Syd  turned  around  and  gave  her  a  swift,  angry 
glance. 

"  Don't  act  so,  Jen,  for  heaven's  sake.  You  ought 
to  go  in." 

"  I've  nothing  fit  to  wear,'  said  the  girl,  almost 
piteously. 

"  Wear  your  lawn  dress,  Jinsey,"  said  Cora,  kindly. 
"  I'm  sure  it  looks  as  nice  as  Lele's  gingham.  And 
you  can  wear  my  breastpin." 

"  That  old  short-waisted  thing!  "  exclaimed  Jennie, 


VENUS   AND    DIANA.  135 

disdaining1  to  notice  Charlie's  interpolation  of  "  Who 
ever  heard  of  a  short-waisted  breastpin !  " 

"  Why  don't  you  fix  it  over,  then,  so  you  can  wear 
it  ?  "  asked  Syd,  irritably. 

"  I've  nothing  like  the  goods  to  fix  it  with." 

"  Couldn't  you  take  a  piece  out  of  the  skirt  and 
make  puffs  for  the  sleeves  ?  "  asked  Clem. 

"  Hardly,  when  it  is  so  skimpy  now  that  I  am 
ashamed  to  walk  across  the  floor  with  it." 

"  The  skirt  ain't  so  bad,"  suggested  Charlie,  crit- 
ically ;  "  it's  the  sleeves  that  make  you  look  like  Noah's 
wife  coming  out  of  the  ark.  You  ought  to  see  Maud 
St.  John's  new  sleeves  —  regular  stunners.  Tell  you, 
Maud  has  the  style !  " 

"  Oh,  consarn  it  all !  "  exclaimed  Jennie,  walking 
furiously  across  the  floor.  "  I  don't  believe  there  ever 
was  such  a  family  as  we  are." 

"A  very  just  remark,  Mrs.  Bedott,  very  just,"  said 
Charlie,  sniffling. 

"  I  feel  sometimes  that  I  could  begin  an'  kick  till 
the  earth  went  to  atoms,"  said  Jennie.  "  If  I  could 
give  it  one  hard  kick  for  every  time  I've  been  mortified 
and  humiliated  there'd  be  a  slight  earthquake  anyhow  ; 
and  I  wouldn't  care  if  it  was  strong  enough  to  cause 
every  house  on  Bethany  Ridge  to  tumble  down." 

"  Except  ours,"  suggested  Syd. 

"  I  wouldn't  miss  ours  if  it  would  bury  me  in  the 
ruins." 


136  THE    MAN    WITH    THE!    HOE. 

"  Jin,  you're  so  wicked.  I'd  think  you'd  dread 
seein'  a  cloud  come  up  for  fear  the  lightning  would 
strike  you,"  said  Cora,  looking  at  her  sister  reproach- 
fully over  a  piece  of  pie  she  was  eating.  Times  were 
serious  indeed  when  Cora  could  not  draw  comfort  from 
a  section  of  one  of  Jen's  flakey-crusted  pies. 

"  Well,  if  I'm  to  be  struck  by  lightning  for  being 
poor  and  miserable,  I  can't  help  it,"  said  Jennie. 

"  You're  as  unreasonable  as  a  Populist,"  Syd 
declared.  "  Talk  more  like  a  rational  being." 

"  You'll  get  punished  for  your  talk  !  "  warned  Tude. 

"  Oh,  of  course.  Something  always  happens.  Very 
likely  a  hailstorm  will  come  up  to-morrow  and  cut  the 
flowers  to  pieces  when  I've  nearly  killed  myself  giving 
them  a  start,  or  wipe  out  the  garden  just  as  the  peas 
are  getting  big  enough  to  eat." 

"  If  a  hailstorm  followed  every  complaint,"  com- 
mented Charlie,  "  we  should  have  a  return  of  the  glacial 
period  in  short  order." 

"  Other  people,"  Jennie  went  on,  "  can  work  on 
Sunday  or  what  not  and  yet  prosper.  Look  at  old 
Si  Col"- 

"  Hush,  Jen,  they'll  hear  you." 

"  I  don't  care.  Ward  knows  what  an  old  skinflint 
he  is,  and  how  he  has  his  men  set  tobacco  on  Sunday, 
and  goes  around  coaxing  other  people's  hands  away  in 
harvest.  Ward's  mean,  too,  or  he'd  never  have  brought 
Venus  here.  He  came  home  with  Lele  on  purpose  to 


VENUS   AND   DIANA.  137 

taunt  us  with  the  sight  of  her.  He  knows  as  well  as 
anybody  how  it  hurt  us  to  part  with  her.  Such  a  gentle 
little  thing  as  she  was,  and  we  girls  could  drive  her 
anywhere.  While  now  we  haven't  any  way  to  go  only 
to  walk  " — 

"  Now,  Jenkins,  I  wonder  if  we  haven't  all  heard 
that  often  enough !  Hush  up,  and  go  in  and  speak  to- 
Ward,  for  manners'  sake  anyhow.  If  you  had  more 
diplomacy,  you'd  get  on  twice  as  well  with  people." 

"  Well,  if  you'd  farm  better  I  could  afford  better 
clothes,  and  wouldn't  have  to  cover  up  my  rags  with 
diplomacy,"  flashed  Jen. 

The  taunt  went  through  the  sensitive  brain  of  her 
brother  like  a  thunderbolt.  Was  this  the  way,  after 
.ill,  that  he  was  providing  for  his  mother's  children? 
He  had  never  before  realized  what  an  important  thing 
nice  dresses  may  be  to  a  girl.  And  how  was  he  doing 
his  duty  in  this  line  by  poor  Jen?  Badly  enough,  he 
knew.  But  to  save  his  life  he  could  not,  under  present 
circumstances,  do  better.  Mortified  and  hurt,  Syd 
resolved  to  cut  short  the  conversation  as  soon  as 
possible. 

He  left  the  room  in  silence,  followed  in  hot  haste 
by  his  repentant  sister,  who  called  to  him  to  stop,  that 
she  might  apologize  for  the  taunt  she  should  have  been 
too  wise  to  utter.  But  he  never  heeded  her.  Perhaps 
he  didn't  hear. 

A  lump  rose  in  Jennie's  throat.     Half  suffocated 


138  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

with  contending  emotions,  she  rushed  out  into  the 
garden,  and,  flinging  herself  down  on  a  bench  under 
one  of  the  dwarf  pear  trees,  burst  into  tears. 

"Whatever  does  possess  me  to  act  so?"  she  won- 
dered, as  she  lay  there  with  her  apron  over  her  head, 
sobbing  her  passionate  heart  out.  "  What  am  I  good 
for,  anyhow?  Nothing,  as  Charlie  says,  but  to  scold 
and  bake  pies.  What  a  ^hideous  thing  life  is !" 

She  sat  and  looked  around,  wondering  if  she  could 
ever  forget  that  day  of  humiliation.  Not  many  in  her 
experience  had  been  more  poignantly  void  of  satisfac- 
tion. It  was  such  a  fine  summer  day,  too ;  so  still,  with 
the  .hot  sunshine  steeping  the  green  and  blossoming 
world  in  glory,  and  she  could  see  no  beauty  in  it. 
Every  bird  that  sang  mocked  her,  and  every  flower 
that  blossomed  seemed-  to  turn  its  little  face  away  from 
her  in  scorn. 

Even  the  way  she  had  treated  Lele,  which  had  not 
hurt  her  much  at  first,  began  to  add  to  her  sense  of 
defeat  and  self-reproach.  What  matter  that  the  bees 
were  flying  home  from  the  old  linden  tree  in  the  hollow 
laden  with  the  sweetest  honey  of  the  year ;  that  the  air 
\vas  heavy  with  the  perfume  of  clover,  that  humming- 
birds were  thick  among  the  honeysuckles,  and  the  holy 
Sabbath  peace  was  over  all?  Jean's  heart  was  ready 
to  burst. 

The  chief  cause  of  the  present  outburst  was  not  her 
recent  tiff  with  Syd,  though  that  had  precipitated  the 
storm  of  tears.  It  was  not  the  mortgage,  which  \vas  a 


VENUS   AND   DIANA.  139 

tear-producer  at  short  notice  any  time ;  not  the  sight 
of  Venus,  with  all  the  bitter  memories  roused  thereby ; 
nor  the  fear  of  poverty ;  nor  all  combined,  that  had 
rendered  that  particular  Sunday  afternoon  a  miserable 
one  for  the  entire  family. 

There  had  been  a  time  when  Trixie  Collins  was 
Jen's  most  intimate  friend  and  Ward  her  boy  lover. 
This  explains  "  a  whole  lot,"  as  Charlie  would  have 
put  it.  It  was  not  enough  that  Lele  must  have  the  good 
gifts  all  her  life, —  music  and  fine  clothes,  an  education 
and  what  not, —  which  to  Jean  had  been  denied.  She 
must  needs  come  home,  and,  at  a  moment's  notice,  cap- 
tivate the  one  man  in  all  the  world  that  Jennie  would 
have  cared  to  win !  This  was  the  crowning  offense  in 
the  category  of  Lele's  unpremeditated  wrong-doings, 
and  made  the  jealous  girl  feel  for  her  rival  a  deeper 
hatred. 

No  wonder  that  "  scraping  pots  and  kettles  in 
somebody  else's  kitchen  at  two  dollars  a  week,"  instead 
of  presiding  over  a  happy  home  of  her  own,  was  one 
of  the  visions  which  imagination  conjured  up  to  tor- 
ture the  mind  of  the  unhappy  girl.  Jennie  cried  hys- 
terically at  the  prospect  of  such  a  future,  against  which 
she  rebelled  with  all  the  force  of  her  passionate  nature. 

"  I  will  not  end  my  days  in  poverty  and  degrada- 
tion," she  cried,  striking  her  clenched  hand  against  the 
rough  bark  of  the  old  pear  tree.  "  I  was  no  more  cre- 
ated for  such  a  fate  than  was  Maud  St.  John  or  Trix 
Collins.  And  as  for  staying  here  to  see  Lele  Fairfax 


140  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

marry  Ward  —  I'll  run  away  and  drown  myself,  or 
join  a  band  of  strolling  players !  How  much  more  of 
this  can  I  stand,  anyhow?" 


Ward's  call  had  been  a  brief  one,  and  Lele  was  by 
this  time  in  her  room,  watching  him  from  behind  the 
curtains  as  he  drove  away  with  his  prancing  steeds,  and 
his  new  buggy  all  a-glitter  in  the  sunlight. 

Ah,  well!  Lele  was  young,  too,  and  fancy  free. 
He  was  a  Collins,  but  for  all  that  the  most  thoroughly 
companionable  young  fellow  she  had  ever  met. 

She  spent  the  next  hour  by  the  open  window,  weav- 
ing fantastic  day-dreams  as  she  sat  dreamily  leaning 
against  the  casement,  with  her  face  upturned  to  the 
deep  blue  summer  sky. 

To  Lele  the  world  was  beautiful,  for  life  and  love 
lay  before  her.  She  had  never  had  a  lover.  No  won- 
der that  Ward  Collins's  blue  eyes  fascinated  her.  They 
were  the  handsomest  eyes  she  had  ever  seen,  and  the 
most  winning  in  expression.  Besides  there  was  some- 
thing infectious  in  his  fun  and  good  humor.  It  did 
you  good  just  to  hear  him  laugh.  And  what  a  sweet 
tempered,  forgiving  young  fellow  he  must  be  to  ask  for 
Jennie  and  Syd  after  the  way  they  had  slighted  him  of 
late!  How  mortifying  to  have  to  tell  him  that  she 
could  not  find  any  of  them  except  her  father,  who  was, 
as  usual  on  Sunday  afternoons,  asleep  on  the  lounge. 
The  boys  had  fled  to  the  barn  after  Syd  and  Jennie  left, 
and  Cora  and  Tude  to  the  orchard. 


VENUS    AND   DIANA.  14! 

»• 

Lele,  thus  left  alone,  felt  very  solitary  in  the  silent 
old  house,  with  the  quiet  evening  hours  coming  on  and 
the  tree  toads  beginning  to  chirp  under  the  shadowy 
trees.  But  her  thoughts  were  pleasant  ones.  Life  was 
sweet.  Lele  felt  so  glad  she  was  living  in  a  world  that 
held  so  much  that  was  worth  living  for.  No  thought 
of  fighting  the  battle  of  life  single-handed  was  in  her 
mind.  No  vision  of  "  pots,  kettles  and  obscure  single 
blessedness  "  marred  the  picture. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
SYD  AND  LELE. 

Mr.  Fairfax  had  promised  to  accompany  Lele  that 
evening  to  the  little  family  burying  ground  to  see  her 
mother's  grave.  And  toward  sunset  they  set  out,  but 
before  they  were  fairly  out  of  the  yard  one  of  the  ten- 
ants appeared  at  the  side  gate  in  search  of  the  man  of 
the  house. 

"  It  is  Grimes  with  some  vexatious  worry  on  hands, 
as  usual,"  Mr.  Fairfax  said,  testily.  "  Do  you  walk  on 
and  I'll  see  what's  wanting,  and  follow  you  directly." 

Lele  went  forward  lingerly  toward  the  inclosure 
on  the  hill  west  of  the  house,  listening  all  the  way  for 
his  approaching  footsteps;  but  slowly  as  she  walked, 
he  never  overtook  her,  and  when  she  reached  the  inclo- 
sure at  the  top  of  the  hill  she  was  still  alone. 

Leaning  on  the  little  rustic  gate,  she  gazed  a  while 
at  the  graves.  There  were  a  few  monuments  of  white 
marble,  some  low,  discolored  tombstones  and  a  few 
dismal  gray  slabs,  one  of  the  latter,  half  hidden  by  a 
clump  of  cedars  near  the  gate,  was  "  Sacred  to  the 
memory  of  Ebenezer  Fairfax  " —  some  unknown  uncle 
who  had  died  of  consumption  in  the  South,  and  had 
been  brought  home  for  burial.  He  was  only  twenty- 
one. 

(142) 


SYD  AND  LEI.E:.  143 

A  spirit  of  peace  seemed  to  brood  over  the  spot. 
Not  a  sound  broke  the  stillness  except  the  cooing  of 
a  dove  in  the  evergreens  —  no  other  sign  of  life 
appeared. 

The  long,  white  road  at  the  foot  of  the  meadow 
was  deserted ;  the  very  sheep-bells  tinkled  afar  off 
with  rhythm  like  that  of  a  running  brook ;  net  even 
a  smoke-wreath  curled  upward  from  any  of  the  numer- 
ous farm-houses  that  nestled  beside  the  substantial 
bank  barns  in  the  vicinity.  Bethany  Ridge  tabooed 
hot  suppers  on  Sundays. 

While  the  girl  gazed  dreamily  over  the  sun-bathed 
landscape,  some  one  came  up  the  steep  path  toward 
her;  but  it  was  not  Mr.  Fairfax  in  his  Sunday  broad- 
cloth and  fine  linen.  It  was  only  Syd,  in  a  black  sat- 
teen  shirt,  common-looking  trousers  and  rusty  cap, 
looking  spiritless,  jaded  and  out  of  sorts. 

"  He  might  have  worn  a  coat,"  thought  Lele,  with 
the  unreasonableness  of  her  sex.  Lele  felt  sorry  to 
meet  him ;  after  her  chat  with  jolly  Ward  his  presence 
was  distasteful,  particularly  as  Ed's  words  came  back 
vividly  to  mind. 

"  Your  father  says  you  will  please  excuse  him  from 
coming  out,"  Syd  said,  in  a  mechanical  fashion  totally 
different  from  his  manner  the  evening  of  her  arrival. 
"A  friend  of  his  came  just  as  Grimes  left;  so  you 
needn't  wait." 

Lele  could  not  but  feel  rather  suspicious  of  Syd's 
motives  in  coming.  And  her  tone  sounded  a  trifle  cool 
when  she  said: 


144  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

"  I'm  sorry  he  couldn't  come." 

Far  away  on  the  Susquehanna  they  could  hear  the 
long,  melodious  whistle  of  a  steamboat. 

"  Perhaps  you  won't  care  to  stay  without  him  ?  " 
said  Syd,  as  the  echoes  died  away  among  the  hills. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind,"  roused  to  pity  by  his  despond- 
ency, which  somehow  sharpened  his  features  and  cast 
shadows  under  his  eyes.  "  We  do  not  seem  to  get 
so  well  acquainted  as  a  brother  and  sister  should,  do 
we?" 

"  No,  I'm  afraid  not,  so  far,"  opening  the  gate 
for  her  to  pass  through.  "  But  don't  mind  if  I  seem 
dull  and  uncompanionable ;  it's  my  way." 

"  Since  when,  I  wonder  ?  "  thought  Lele,  relenting 
toward  him. 

They  walked  on  in  silence  until  they  reached  the 
two  mounds  where  the  mother  of  each  lay  buried.  Syd 
turned  his  head  aside,  for  the  tears  blinded  him.  It 
was  only  two  years  since  the  sod  had  closed  over  the 
grave  at  his  feet,  and  yet  an  eternity  of  grief  and  long- 
ing seemed  to  lie  between  then  and  now.  There  was 
a  long  silence,  then  a  small,  soft  hand  rested  on  his 
arm  sympathetically,  and  a  gentle  voice  said: 

"  We  are  both  motherless,  Syd.  But  you  have 
brothers  and  sisters,  while  I  —  don't  feel  —  as  though 
I  had  —  anybody." 

The  wistful  tone  struck  a  pang  through  the  young 
fellow's  soul.  He  involuntarily  —  moved  by  some 
swift  impulse  of  sympathy  —  took  the  hand  that  rested 
on  his  arm  and  raised  it  to  his  lips.  Lele  totally  mis- 


SYD   AND   LELE.  145 

understood  him  and  looked  up  in  blank  dismay,  startled 
and  confused.  Was  the  young  fortune  hunter  trying 
to  make  love  to  her?  She  felt  even  more  hurt  than 
angry  to  see  her  step-brother  in  a  role  so  contemptible. 

Syd  knew  her  thoughts  instinctively,  and  his  face 
crimsoned  with  shame.  There  was  an  embarrassed 
pause,  during  which  she  moved  away  a  few  steps  with 
a  downcast  air ;  but  he  could  see  on  her  face  a  pained, 
chagrined  look,  as  though  she  knew  he  entertained 
sentiments  toward  her  that  rendered  his  presence  dis- 
tasteful. He  began  explaining  in  a  choked,  stammer- 
ing way,  hardly  able  to  utter  three  words  consecutively 
without  pausing: 

"  Lele,  I  don't  think  —  I  don't  mean  —  You  can 
think  whatever  else  you  please  about  me,  but  don't  — 
for  heaven's  sake,  believe  that.  I  don't  want  —  your 
money.  I  know  —  Ed  —  told  you  —  I  did.  But  if 
you  —  think  —  me  —  so  —  so  degraded,  so  unprinci- 
pled, I'd  " —  He  broke  down.  All  he  could  add  was, 
"  I  can't  bear  to  have  you  —  look  at  me  —  that  way 
again." 

He  thought  he  had  made  an  awful  mess  of  it,  and 
that  Lele  would  feel  justified  in  shunning  him  after  this. 
Maud  would,  he  knew.  He  heartily  wished  Lele  was 
like  her.  It  would  be  balm  to  his  wounded  pride  to 
know  that  all  women  were  heartless. 

Instead,  however,  of  turning  from  him  coldly,  as 
he  deserved,  perhaps,  she  seemed  all  at  once  to  com- 
prehend the  situation,  and  after  scrutinizing  his  hag- 
gard countenance  a  moment,  she  slipped .  her  hand 
do) 


146  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

through  his  arm  again,  and  said  in  a  tone  that  made 
him  compare  her  to  the  sweetest  angel  in  heaven : 

"  Syd,  I  understand  and  quite  forgive  you.  Let  us 
be  real  friends,  real  brother  and  sister.  I  know  you 
are  too  noble  to  deceive  me  in  any  way,  and  I  am 
not  afraid  to  trust  you.  Oh,  Syd,  I  need  your  friend- 
ship so  much !  " 

"  You  shall  have  it,  Lele,"  replied  Syd,  humbly. 
In  his  deep  humility  he  would  willingly  have  resigned 
her  hand  and  fortune  to  any  man  worthy  of  her.  He 
felt  that  he  could  never  be  that.  But  he  would  be  to 
her  always  a  true  and  loyal  elder  brother. 

They  slowly  retraced  their  steps  to  the  gate,  talking 
as  they  went  about  the  graves  of  by-gone  relatives, 
their  tones  unconsciously  low.  Gradually  the  conver- 
sation drifted  to  family  affairs,  and  Lele  made  some 
inquiries  about  the  mortgage. 

"  It  is  to  be  foreclosed,  I  fear !  "  said  Syd,  briefly. 

"Must  the  farm  be  sold,  then?" 

"  I  think  so.  I  have  done  my  utmost  to  save  it, 
but  I  can't,  I  guess ;  in  fact,  I  know  I  can't.  The 
interest  on  the  mortgage  takes  the  bread  out  of  our 
mouths  and  keeps  us  in  shabby  clothes  the  year  around 
—  all  except  your  father ;  his  salary  dresses  him.  It 
ought  to !  "  he  added,  bitterly ;  "  we  never  see  a  penny 
of  it." 

'  I  wish  there  was  something  I  could  do,"  Lelc 
replied,  sadly.  "  But  my  aunt  —  you  know  the  pro- 
visions of  her  will." 

"  Yes,"  Syd  knew  very  well.     Five  hundred  dol- 


SYD   AND   LELE.  147 

lars  a  year  to  render  her  niece  independent  until  her 
marriage  —  to  be  expended  only  with  the  consent  of 
her  guardian.  Lele  might  as  well  have  been  penniless 
so  far  as  any  freedom  to  help  her  father's  family  was 
concerned. 

"  I'm  sorry  I  can't  help  you  all,"  Lele  reiterated. 

"  No  matter.  We  shall  feel  more  independent 
when  everything  is  settled  up,  and  we  know  for  a 
certainty  what  we  have." 

He  held  his  head  erect  and  felt  and  looked  more 
like  himself.  The  burning  blush  of  shame  had  passed 
away,  and  he  could  look  his  step-sister  frankly  in  the 
eye  again.  The  future,  with  all  its  poverty  and  priva- 
tions, actually  looked  less  appalling  than  life  with  Lele's 
money  on  his  conscience.  He  was  glad  that  indepen- 
dence so  basely  purchased  was  out  of  the  question. 

To  make  his  renunciation  complete,  he  resolved, 
before  returning  to  the  house,  to  test  her  opinion  of 
Ward.  That  it  was  a  very  favorable  one  he  did  not 
doubt.  They  were  both  leaning  over  the  low  gate  to 
the  inclosure,  with  quite  a  brother  and  sister  air.  Syd 
plunged  at  once  into  the  new  subject:  How  did  she 
like  young  Collins? 

The  question  was  unexpected,  and  the  sensitive 
color  flew  to  Lele's  cheeks.  She  was  not  enough  of  a 
"  society  "  girl  to  have  lost  the  art  of  blushing. 

"  Oh,  I  see  how  it  is.  You  like  him.  Girls  always 
do."  Syd  looked  away  over  the  southern  hills  with  a 
forlorn  sinking  of  the  heart  that  was  by  no  means  new. 
He  had  been  jealous  of  Ward  often  enough,  but  was 


148  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

this — jealousy?  He  scouted  the  idea.  Why  shouldn't 
Lele  marry  the  fellow  if  she  chanced  to  care  for  him 
and  he  for  her? 

He  knew  by  instinct  that  Lele  would  ask  him  what 
sort  of  a  fellow  Ward  was ;  and  she  did. 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  in  and  see  your  old  friend 
this  evening  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Isn't  he  nice  ?  Don't  you 
like  him  any  more  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  he  is  nice,  but  I  don't  like  him." 

"  Don't  you  think  it  may  be  your  fault  —  a  little  ?  " 

"  Probably." 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  better  to  make  up  with  him  ?  " 

"  You  don't  quite  understand  what  you  are  asking, 
Lele.  No;  it  wouldn't  be  better  to  make  it  up." 

"  Syd,  be  a  good,  kind-hearted  brother  and  tell  me 
why  you  are  not  friends  any  more.  He  told  me  about 
Venus,  but  said  there  were  other  things  you  quarreled 
about." 

"  Lele,  do  you  really  want  me  to  tell  you  ?  " 

"  If  it  would  be  right  for  me  to  ask.  I  think  you 
must  have  liked  him  very  much  when  you  were  friends. 
He  told  me  how  intimate  you  two  were,  and  how  he 
still  liked  you.  I  wonder  you  do  not  try  to  keep 
friendly  with  him  —  on  account  of  the  mortgage,  at 
least." 

"I  confess  I  have  no  diplomacy.  Under  some 
circumstances  diplomacy  is  a  contemptible  trait,  Lele." 

"  But  you  were  friends." 

"  Ward  and  I  were  the  dearest  of  friends  until  the 
last  year  or  two.  I  believe  I  knew  every  thought  in 


SYD   AND   I.ELE.  149 

his  mind  until  he  was  nearly  nineteen.  He  never  did 
anything  without  first  consulting  me.  A  peculiarity 
of  his  nature  is  that  he  must  have  somebody  stronger 
than  he  to  lean  on.  And  I  like  to  be  looked  up  to 
by  '  weaker  vessels.'  I  pass  for  a  crusty  old  fellow 
now,  and  I  am  pretty  crabbed  I  guess ;  but  I  used  to 
be  different.  Lele,  you  may  smile  incredulously,  but 
it's  a  fact  —  I  actually  thought  at  one  time  that  I 
couldn't  live  without  somebody  or  something  to  love." 
(That  time  would  never  be  past  for  Syd.)  "  But  when 
I  lost  confidence  in — some  people — everything  seemed 
to  go  crossgrained  with  me.  I  became  discouraged, 
impatient  and  irritable.  Everything  seemed  to  con- 
spire against  me.  When  I  had  Ward  for  a  confidant, 
though  I  didn't  tell  him  just  everything  as  he  did  me, 
it  was  at  least  soothing  to  be  with  him,  for  he  is  nor- 
mally an  awfully  sympathetic  soul,  and  hasn't  a  par- 
ticle of  temper.  Ward  and  my  mother  together  kept 
the  snarls  smoothed  pretty  well  out  of  my  temper ;  but 
I  lost  her,"  (he  looked  wistfully  toward  the  evening 
star  with  some  lines  of  Whittier's  in  his  mind,  which 
were  in  Lele's  mind,  too,)  "  and  that  nearly  killed  me. 
After  a  time  Ward  and  I  fell  out,  and  I  felt  somehow 
as  though  I  had  lost  myself." 

"  But  Jennie  would  have  helped  you,  Syd,  if  you 
had  let  her." 

"  No ;  Jen  means  well,  but  as  a  confidante  she's  no 
good.  Besides,  her  soul  was  in  darkness,  too:  there 
were  some  things  we  sacredly  refrained  from  mention- 
ing to  each  other." 


150  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

"  Poor  boy!  "  sighed  Lele.  "  If  I  could  only  have 
been  with  you  then !  You  would  have  been  willing 
to  make  a  confidante  of  me,  wouldn't  you,  Syd?" 

Syd  felt  the  impulse  to  kiss  her  for  that  tone  of  lov- 
ing sympathy. 

"  Heavens !  if  she  could  only  have  been  with  me 
then !  "  he  thought.  "  Such  a  sister  as  Lele  would 
let  a  few  rays  of  sunshine  into  one's  blackest  days. 
God  bless  her."  But  he  only  said  quite  calmly  aloud: 

"  Yes ;  I  think  so." 

"Tell  me  why  you  quarreled  with  your  friend." 

"  Oh,  well  —  we  both  liked  the  same  girl,  and  she 
finally  liked  him  better  than  she  did  me.  If  I'd  known 
it  before  I  grew  to  care  for  her  so  much  I  think  I 
could  have  forgiven  Ward.  She  held  me  captive  just 
until  she  felt  sure  of  securing  Ward,  and  then  threw 
me  over.  I  blamed  him  for  deceiving  me  in  the  matter, 
too,  though  he  was  excusable,  perhaps,  on  the  theory 
that  '  all  things  are  fair  in  love  and  war.'  When  lie 
tried  to  talk  it  over  with  me  afterwards  I  wouldn't  let 
him.  There  was  nothing  to  be  said,  either  to  him 
or  her." 

"And  they  are  to  marry  soon,  I  suppose?"  said 
Lele,  a  trifle  unsteadily. 

"  I  don't  think  so.  She  never  suited  Ward,  and 
I  think  he  has  grown  tired  of  her.  You  would  fine1 
it  no  trouble  to  cut  her  out." 

"  I  don't  intend  to  try,"  said  Lele. 

"  Ward's  eyes  have  failed  to  do  execution,  then, 
for  the  first  time." 


SYD    AND    UJLE.  15! 

"  Syd,  at  the  risk  of  being  thought  a  fool,  I  must  say 
that  I  should  fight  very  hard  against  falling  in  love 
with  any  farmer.  I  don't  really  believe  the  life  of  a 
farmer's  wife  would  suit  me." 

"  That  was  what  Maud  thought,"  replied  Syd,  bit- 
terly. "  I  don't  know  that  I  ought  to  blame  any 
woman  for  having  a  prejudice  against  farm  life,  since 
you  share  it." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Lele,  beginning  to  laugh.  "  I 
suppose  if  I  ever  fall  in  love,  which  isn't  at  all  likely, 
I  won't  stop  long,  after  all,  to  consider  my  future  hus- 
band's occupation.  Only  I  find  farm  life,  both  for 
men  and  women,  so  different  from  what  I  supposed, 
that  I  wonder  you  have  the  courage  to  go  on  with  it." 

"  I  did  rebel  against  it  once ;  it  seemed  such  a  plod- 
ding, brain-destroying  industry ;  but  I'm  in  for  it  now, 
and  expect  to  stick  to  it.  After  all,  it  doesn't  matter 
much  where  a  fellow  lives  or  what  he  does,  so  it's 
honest." 

"And  suitable,"  said  Lele.  "  I  don't  think  one's 
work  can  ever  be  thoroughly  enjoyable  if  it  goes  against 
the  grain  of  one's  nature." 

"  Well,  you  needn't  fret  about  your  work,  at  any 
rate,"  said  Syd.  "  I'm  thankful  you  are  provided  for." 

"  Since  I've  been  here  I've  been  thinking  seriously 
of  going  into  some  kind  of  business,"  said  Lele.  "  I 
suppose  teaching  would  suit  me  best." 

"  That's  because  I've  made  you  think  ill  of  Ward." 
said  Syd,  anxiously.  "  Don't  misunderstand  me,  Lele. 
I've  tried  to  be  truthful  about  him.  He's  all  right. 


152  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

He  couldn't  help  Maud  preferring  him,  I  suppose.  He 
had  everything  and  I  nothing.  What  is  there  about 
me  to  attract  any  girl  ?  Shabby  clothes  without  a  cent 
in  the  pockets,  a  careworn,  unsmiling  face,  and  a 
future  obscured  by  poverty,  are  no  recommendations 
to  any  man,  especially  when  there  is  another  around 
who  is  all  grace  and  high  spirits  and  elegance." 

He  let  his  head  drop  on  his  arm  with  a  feeling  of 
utter  wretchedness.  Both  leaned  over  the  gate  in 
silence.  It  occurred  to  him  that  she  might  think  he 
was  posing  for  sympathy.  He  didn't  care,  this  time, 
what  she  thought.  Nothing  mattered. 

The  satin-soft  fingers  rested  on  his  arm  again,  and 
there  was  comfort  in  her  very  tones : 

"  Syd,  /  don't  think  you're  shabby  or  tongue-tied, 
or  —  or  —  anything  but  awfully  nice.  If  Ed  were  half 
the  man  you  are,  I'd  be  so  proud  of  him  that  I  shouldn't 
know  what  to  do.  Maud  can't  be  really  worth  winning 
or  she  never  would  have  jilted  you  for  Ward  Collins." 

Syd  took  from  his  pocket  two  card  photos  and  held 
them  before  her  eyes  —  \Vard's  and  his  own. 

"  Look  on  this  picture  and  then  on  that,"  he  said 
scornfully.  "  You  can  see  at  a  glance  which  a  girl 
would  be  likely  to  choose." 

"  His  picture  is  certainly  handsome,"  said  Lele ; 
"  and  yours  doesn't  do  you  justice  at  all.  Nearly  all 
the  beauty  you  have  lies  in  that  of  expression.  It  is 
when  you  smile  and  your  eyes  light  up  that  you  look 
your  best.  If  you  had  kept  a  smiling  face,  you  never 
would  have  been  jilted.  Let  me  have  the  pictures, 
Syd." 


SYD    AND   LELE.  153 

"  No ;  I  keep  them  as  a  panacea  for  vanity.  When 
I  imagine  anybody  liking  me  better  than  Ward,  I  take 
out  these  old  photos,  and  one  glance  satisfies  me.  I've 
looked  at  them  a  thousand  times,  I  suppose." 

"The  cure  doesn't  appear  to  be  permanent,"  said 
Lele,  mischievously.  "  Give  them  to  me  and  I'll  war- 
rant you'll  have  a  better  opinion  of  yourself." 

Syd  put  the  photos  in  his  pocket  and  opened  the 
gate  for  her  to  pass. 

"  It's  getting  too  damp  for  you  up  here,"  he  said. 
"  See  how  wet  the  grass  is." 

"  I  want  those  pictures  first." 

"  You  can't  have  them,  Lele." 

"  I  won't  stir  one  inch  till  I  get  them,"  said  Lele, 
displaying  astonishing  obstinacy. 

"  Lele !  how  can  you  ask  such  a  thing  ?  "  He  was 
half  laughing,  half  angry. 

"  Syd !  how  can  you  refuse  me  the  only  favor  I've 
asked  of  you  since  I've  been  here  ?  "  aggrieved.  "  I 
don't  mind  going  to  bed  hungry,  or  any  such  minor 
inconvenience ;  but  if  you  refuse  me  those  pictures  I'll 
never  forgive  you." 

He  looked  at  her  indecisively  a  moment,  then  said : 
"  You  can't  have  them." 

"All  right,  sir.  I  know  what  you  mean  when  you 
talk  about  kindness,  and  apologize  for  other  people.  I 
do  indeed ! " 

Syd  stopped  her  as  she  was  passing  him  and  said 
with  a  smile: 

"  Well,  here  they  are.  What  use  can  you  possibly 
make  of  them  ?  " 


154  THE    MAN    WITH    THE)    HOE). 

"  Keep  you  from  looking  at  them,"  said  Lele,  slip- 
ping her  hand  through  his  arm.  "  I  prophesy  your 
self-esteem  will  develop  from  this  time  forth.  And 
now,  Syd,  be  a  good  boy.  When  you  can  be  so  thor- 
oughly companionable  you  ought  to  exert  yourself  a 
little  to  amuse  me  while  I'm  here." 

"  You  will  be  in  no  lack  of  amusement  after  this. 
Ward  will  keep  you  so  well  entertained  that  you  will 
soon  cease  to  care  how  I  look." 

"  I  don't  care  if  he  never  comes  here,"  said  Lele. 
"He's  nothing  to  me,  Syd  —  just  nothing." 

Syd's  heart  leaped.  He  would  have  been  more 
than  human,  perhaps,  to  resist  the  temptation  to  clasp 
in  his  the  little  hand  that  lay  on  his  arm. 

"  I  don't  want  him  to  come  here  and  make  my  visit 
doubly  disagreeable  to  the  rest  of  you,"  she  went  on. 

"  Doubly  disagreeable  ?  "  echoed  Syd. 

'  You're  not  going  to  act  so  —  so  " — 

"  Unbrotherlike." 

"That's  just  it.  We're  to  be  confidants,  aren't 
we?" 

"  You  can  trust  me  with  anything.  I  don't  tell 
much  about  myself,  Lele ;  never  did.  This  evening 
was  an  exception." 

They  were  at  the  gate,  now,  that  led  to  the  lawn 
and  it  had  grown  suddenly  dark ;  there  were  thousands 
of  fireflies  in  the  shrubbery,  and  the  stars  were  kin- 
dling.    The  lamps  were  not  yet  lighted  in  the  house. 

"  I  don't  feel  quite  so  homesick  to-night,"  she  said, 


SYD   AND   LELE.  155 

naively.     "  I'm  getting  accustomed  to  farm  life,  and 
it  doesn't  seem  so  lonely." 

"Poor  child!  You've  been  having  such  a  dreary 
'time  of  it  so  far." 

"  It  was  only  for  a  day  or  two,  and  I'm  sure  tc 
have  a  good  time  once  you  all  get  to  know  me." 

"  I'm  afraid  we're  such  a  dreary  set,  Lele  " — 

"  Now,  don't.  I'll  not  find  any  happiness  in  culti- 
vating Bethany  Ridge,  but  I  do  so  long  to  have  my 
brothers  and  sisters  love  me." 

"  I  don't  think  you'll  have  a  great  while  to  wait," 
said  Syd,  smiling.  "  Ycur  victories  in  that  line  are 
very  sure." 

"  Thank  you,  Syd.  Ft  does  me  good  to  hear  you 
say  it.  And  on  your  side  —  confess  that  you  feel  hap- 
pier than  you  did  an  hour  or  two  ago." 

"  I  don't  know  but  I  do,"  Syd  admitted.  "  I  felt 
in  need  of  cheering  up  when  I  came  out,  I  do  assure 
you.  I  was  just  like  an  old  silk  hat  that  somebody 
had  stepped  on  and  crushed  all  out  of  shape,  and 
brushed  the  wrong  way.  But  you've  made  me  feel 
like  —  folks." 

"  Good !  I  want  you  to  feel  like  folks !  "  said  Lele, 
merrily. 

''  Come  into  the  dining-room  and  have  lunch,"  said 
Syd,  as  they  ascended  the  veranda  steps. 

****** 

Lunch  was  over,  and  Lele  was  in  the  sitting-room 
chatting  with  her  father  and  the  children.  Syd 


156  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

remained  outside  a  while  smoking  a  cigar  in  the  deep- 
ening dusk,  and  then,  as  if  drawn  by  magnetism,  wan- 
dered off  across  the  fields  in  the  direction  of  the  St. 
John  farmhouse.  The  front  part  of  the  house  seemed 
deserted ;  there  was  no  light  in  the  parlor,  and  Syd 
knew  Maud  was  away  somewhere.  When  he  got  past 
the  house  a  little  he  looked  back  and  saw  a  light  stream- 
ing from  the  open  kitchen  door.  The  family  were 
decorously  seated  at  their  Sabbath  cold  lunch.  There 
was  no  ringing  laughter  as  when  Maud  was  present. 
Kitty's  little  phiz  appeared  at  the  board  beside  her 
elderly  parents.  Morris  was  absent.  He  was  prob- 
ably now  casting  a  shadow  on  Trixie  Collins'  parlor 
blind.  Syd  walked  on.  Maud  would  perhaps  return 
shortly.  If  she  did,  he  wanted  to  see  her. 

Presently  he  saw  a  one-horse  buggy  coming  up  the 
hill  just  ahead  of  him.  Even  in  the  dusk  he  could 
recognize  Keith  Hubbard's  dappled  gray,  not  so  much 
by  its  color  as  by  its  size  and  gait.  He  stood  back 
against  the  stone  wall  in  the  shadow  of  some  pawpaw 
bushes  to  let  them  pass,  for  the  road  here  was  steep 
and  narrow.  The  buggy-top  was  laid  back  and  t\\o 
people  were  in  it  —  Maud  and  Keith.  He  recognized 
them  by  their  voices,  as  they  came  up,  though  he  could 
not  distinguish  their  words.  And  his  heart  sank.  He 
could  not  see  Maud  this  evening,  or  any  other  evening, 
probably.  Keith  Hubbard  was  an  ever-welcome  guest 
there  when  Ward  was  in  disfavor. 

Syd's  eyes  were  by  this  time  so  accustomed  to  the 
gloom  that  he  could  discern  near  objects  quite  well, 


THZ    ROAD    BELOW    ST.   JOHN'S    AT    TWILIGHT 


SYD   AND   LEI.E.  157 

though  there  was  but  a  dim  glow  of  starlight.  Keith's 
arm  was  around  Maud,  who  held  the  lines  in  her  little 
gloved  hands.  Syd  heard  him  say : 

"  Just  one  kiss,  dearest." 

"  Now,  Keith,  you'll  tell !  " 

"  Maud,  I  swear  I  won't." 

"  Well  —  only  one,  mind  !  " 

Syd  waited  to  hear  no  more.  But  in  hurriedly 
descending  the  bank  he  slipped  and  fell  against  the 
buggy  wheels,  which  nearly  ran  over  him.  It  was  a 
moment  or  two  before  he  could  regain  his  feet. 

"  Oh,  what  is  that  dreadful  creature?  "  cried  Maud, 
appealing  to  Keith,  whose  horse  had  taken  fright. 
Maud  had  dropped  the  lines  and  was  about  to  faint 
outright  when  the  buggy  ran  up  against  the  bank  and 
upset,  throwing  both  out.  .  Syd,  as  the  promoter  of 
the  catastrophe,  did  what  penance  he  could  by  catching 
the  frightened  horse  and  righting  the  buggy.  Keith 
was  slightly  hurt ;  Maud  not  at  all.  But  nothing  could 
induce  her  to  get  into  the  buggy  again.  They  were  but 
a  short  distance  from  home,  she  said.  If  Syd  would 
drive  the  horse,  or  lead  it  to  her  father's  house,  she 
and  Keith  would  walk. 

"  I  think  I  had  better  drive  him  myself,"  said  Keith. 
"  He  knows  my  voice  better." 

"  But,  Keith,  I'm  afraid  you'll  get  hurt,"  said 
Maud.  "Syd  can  manage  him." 

"  No  matter  if  I  am  hurt  1  "  thought  Syd,  tingling 
with  indignation. 

"  You  caused  the  accident,  vou  know,  and  ought 


158  THE    MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

to  be  willing  to  render  some  assistance,"  she  added 
to  Syd,  with  a  voice  of  ruffled  sweetness. 

"  The  accident  was  caused  mainly  by  Keith  not  hav- 
ing hold  of  the  lines,"  replied  Syd,  shortly. 

"  You  are  very  much  mistaken,  Mr.  McKnight," 
said  Maud,  in  a  tone  of  ice  mingled  with  salt.  "  I 
think  it  quite  enough  for  you  to  cause  our  horse  to 
upset  the  buggy  and  endanger  both  our  lives,  without 
making  ungentlemanly  insinuations." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  for  the  insinuations,  if  I  was 
mistaken.  I  haven't  done  anything  ungentlemanly  that 
I  know  of,"  Syd  replied.  "  Still  I  am  willing  to  drive 
the  horse  home  if  Keith  is  afraid  of  him." 

"Afraid  of  my  own  horse!  "  exclaimed  Keith,  ruf- 
fled in  his  turn.  He  felt  that  his  honor  as  a  horseman 
was  touched. 

"  Let  him  manage  the  horse,  Keith,"  whispered 
Maud.  "  I  want  you  to  walk  with  me." 

"  Wouldn't  you  be  willing  to  walk  up  the  hill  with 
Syd?" 

"  I  wouldn't  do  it  for  the  world!  "  said  Maud,  peev- 
ishly. 

The  next  moment  the  fractious  steed  (with  Syd 
grimly  hanging  on  to  the  lines)  was  tearing  up  the 
hill  as  though  pursued  by  furies.  Things  "  looked 
shaky  "  for  the  driver's  safety,  but  Syd  rather  enjoyed 
that  part  of  the  situation.  A  genuine  Mazeppa  flight 
would  have  been  preferable  to  being  snubbed  any 
longer  by  his  old  sweetheart. 


SYD   AND   LEJtE.  159 

Fortunately,  the  harness  held  firm,  and  after  a 
few  minutes'  run  the  gallant  gray  was  all  right. 

Syd  went  on  home  after  hitching  him  to  the  rack 
at  St.  John's  without  waiting  to  see  Maud  and  Keith 
again.  Every  word  of  their  whispered  colloquy  — 
indeed,  every  word  that  Maud  had  uttered  —  had  fallen 
on  his  ears  as  bitter  as  gall-drops  on  the  tongue. 

Syd  was  thoroughly  disenchanted  at  last ;  but  he 
did  not  sleep  any  sooner  or  sounder  that  night  for  his 
freedom  from  thrall. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
SOME   MONDAY   MORNING   PROBLEMS. 

Monday  morning  dawned  without  a  cloud.  Lele 
arose  early,  and  when  she  went  downstairs  found  Syd 
seated  on  the  top  step  of  the  veranda.  He  had  done  the 
feeding,  and  was  waiting  for  breakfast,  which  was 
rather  late.  He  greeted  her  with  a  smile  that  some- 
how softened  and  brightened  the  lines  of  his  face  into 
positive  beauty.  Lele  began  to  realize  that  her  step- 
brother was,  after  all,  a  handsome  fellow. 

""Why  so  early?"  he  asked,  making  room  for  her 
at  his  side.  "  I  thought  city  girls  slept  away  all  the 
freshness  of  the  morning,  and  spent  the  rest  of  the 
day  lolling  in  hammocks  and  easy-chairs." 

"  Not  the  up-to-date  city  girl,"  Lele  replied,  saucily. 
"  She  has  given  up  the  hammock  and  easy  chair  for  the 
wheel,  tennis  and  golf.  Her  days  are  as  busy  as  once 
they  were  idle.  And  now  she  is  a  healthy,  happy  girl." 

Syd  thought  of  Jennie's  narrow,  drudging  life  in 
contrast,  and  was  silent.  Lele  changed  the  subject. 

"  Syd,  I  feel  that  there  is  work  for  me  to  do  here 
—  for  -Ed,  I  mean,"  and  her  face  suddenly  clouded. 
"  "What  is  to  become  of  that  poor  boy  ?  " 

"You  mustn't  worry  about  him,  Lele;  it  won't  help 
matters  any.  He  has  always  been  inclined  to  go  to  the 
bad.  Some  are,  you  know." 

(160) 


SOME;  MONDAY  MORNING  PROBLEMS.  161 

"  Religion  might  make  a  useful  man  of  him  yet." 

Syd  repressed  a  smile. 

"  I  never  heard  of  religion  putting  elbow-grease 
into  a  man's  arm  ;  he's  lazy,  and,  according  to  my  creed, 
that  is  worse  than  being  an  infidel." 

"  With  congenial  work  he  might  prove  industrious." 

"  Possibly.  But  I  haven't  much  faith  in  religion 
as  a  promoter  of  industry.  I've  seen  too  much  of 
Jake  Grimes'  go-to-meetin'  shiftlcssness  for  that." 

"  Has  the  minister  ever  tried  to  reclaim  him  ?  " 

"  Ed.,  like  some  of  the  rest  of  us,  hasn't  much  faith 
in  the  minister.  His  dullness  is  appalling,  and  he 
doesn't  understand  boys." 

"  Well,  have  you  "— 

"  To  be  candid,  Lele,  I  lost  patience  with  Ed  long 
ago,  and  I  do  not  now  pretend  to  have  any  influence 
over  him." 

"  Is  there  anybody  who  has  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  not." 

Lele  meditated  with  her  chin  resting  on  her  clasped 
hands. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  finally,  "  I've  thought  a  great 
deal  about  him  ever  since  I  came,  and  it  seems  to  me 
the  only  thing  we  can  do  for  him  is  to  take  him  away 
from  home,  give  him  his  chosen  work,  and  place  him 
where  his  mind  and  character  will  have  every  possible 
chance  to  improve." 

"  It  would  be  worth  trying,  but  every  experiment 
costs  money,  and  we  have  none." 

"  I  have  a  plan,  and  if  you  will  promise  not  to  speak 
ii 


l62  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

of  it,  as  I  don't  care  to  have  more  than  one  confidant, 
I  will  tell  yon  what  it  is." 

Syd  gave  his  promise,  and  Lele  resumed : 

"  Instead  of  just  living  on  my  income,  as  my  aunt 
intended,  I  propose  to  apply  for  a  school  in  my  old 
home  —  St.  Louis  —  and  thus  be  able,  if  I  am  suc- 
cessful, to  meet  Ed's  expenses  while  he  is  learning  to 
be  a  machinist.  I  know  a  lady  who  will  board  us,  I 
think.  She  is  a  friend  of  mine,  and  will  be  a  great 
help  to  me  in  influencing  Ed.  She  understands  boys 
thoroughly,  and  has  helped  more  than  one  toward  a 
nobler  life.  It  will  give  Ed  a  chance,  at  least,  to  make 
something  of  himself  if  there  is  anything  in  him." 

"  We  would  be  better  off  without  him,  and  it 
would,  perhaps,  be  the  best  thing  that  could  be  done 
for  him.  But  is  it  right  for  you  to  assume  such  respon- 
sibility, or  for  us  to  permit  it  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  would  be  right  —  yes,"  said  Lele,  firmly. 

"  To  teach  school  is  no  easy  life  for  a  woman,  and, 
in  addition,  to  have  the  care  of  such  a  fellow  as  Ed 
would  take  most  of  the  brightness  out  of  your  life  — 
particularly,  if,  as  is  likely,  you  failed,  after  all.     I 
don't  think  you  had  better  undertake  it,  Lele."          v. 

"  My  mind  is  made  up  now,  and  nothing  can  change 
it.  The  teachers  will  be  employed  very  shortly,  and 
I  must  send  my  letter  of  application  to-day.  I  have 
some  influential  friends  in  the  Board,  and  my  guardian 
will  help  me  if  he  sees  that  I  am  determined  to  teach. 
Then  all  that  will  be  necessary  will  be  father's  con- 
sent to  let  Ed  go.  I  have  talked  enough  with  my 


SOME    MONDAY    MORNING    PROBLEMS.  163 

brother  to  know  that  it  will  be  a  welcome  change  for 
him." 

"  It  is  very  generous  of  you  to  form  such  a  plan, 
and  I  "- 

A  cow,  lately  separated  from  her  calf,  was  bellow- 
ing" so  loudly  in  the  lane  that  Lele  had  to  ask  him  to 
repeat  the  remainder  of  the  sentence.  The  racket  was 
simply  deafening.  And  in  the  trees  overhead  hundreds 
of  blackbirds  added  a  chorus  to  the  solo  in  the  lane. 

Syd  ran  to  the  fence  and  drove  the  cow  away ; 
then  he  beat  two  shingles  together  for  several  min- 
utes and  "  cleared  the  aisles  "  in  the  tree-tops.  Just  as 
he  turned  to  resume  his  conversation  with  Lele  a  red- 
faced  Dutch*  farmer  appeared  at  the  side  gate  with  a 
gusty-looking  frown  on  his  fat  countenance. 

"  Hello,  Heldt !  "  said  Syd. 

"  Hello,  Sect,"  said  Heldt,  sulkily. 

"What's  to  pay?"  Syd  asked. 

"  Blenty.  In  der  name  uff  Himmel,  vat  you  goin' 
to  do  mit  dem  stheers  uff  yourn,  Sect?  Py  gracious, 
they  been  tearin'  up  shack  mit  my  corn-field  ag'in." 

"  They  have?    Confound  it !  " 

"  Vat  you  goin'  to  do  abotid  id  ?  "  Heldt  persisted. 

Syd's  face  took  on  an  angry  look  that  made  Lele 
wonder  how  she  could  ever  have  thought  him  a  hand- 
some fellow.  He  made  an  attempt  to  reply,  but  his 
words  were  completely  swallowed  up  in  the  obstreper- 


*  Pennsylvania  Dutch  came  originally  from   Holland,  not 
Germany. 


164  THE    MAN    WITH    THE)    HOE. 

ous  gobbling  of  a  huge  turkey  which  was  strutting  on 
the  lawn. 

"  Vat  you  say  ?  "  shouted  the  Dutchman.  "  I  give 
you  ten  tollars  abiece  for  dem  stheers  an'  say  nuddings 
aboud  damages." 

Syd  gave  the  gobbler  a  start  with  his  straw  hat 
that  sent  the  noble  bird  wheeling  around  the  corner 
of  the  house.  Then  he  said  something  to  Heldt  that 
Lele  could  not  hear. 

"  All  ride,  all  ride !  "  said  Heldt,  and  left  in  a  huff. 

"What  did  you  say  that  made  him  so  angry?" 
asked  Lele.  But  the  house  dog  and  a  ragged-looking 
cur  that  belonged  to  Heldt  had  taken  up  their  masters' 
quarrel,  and  no  conversation  was  possible  for  several 
minutes.  Syd  wasted  no  words  in  settling  this  "  sec- 
ond-hand furse " ;  the  cur  was  seen  to  run  yelping 
down  the  lane  a  short  time  afterward  on  three  legs, 
and  one  of  Jennie's  dahlia  sticks  was  missing. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  are  acting  a  little  imprudently 
in  hurting  his  dog,  Syd,"  Lele  said,  anxiously. 

"  Yes,  I  think  myself  that  I  let  him  off  too  easy. 
I  ought  to  have  broken  his  consarned  neck.  I'm  sat- 
isfied he  has  killed  five  of  our  sheep  within  a  week ; 
and  Heldt  is  so  determined  to  make  us  sell  the  young 
cattle  for  half  price  that  I  think  he  turns  them  into 
the  corn  every  night  as  a  ruse  to  help  pile  up  damages. 
Sometimes  I  think  I  shall  end  by  murdering  the 
Dutchman  and  his  dog,  too.  Blast  their  hides !  " 

Lele  reverted  to  Ed's  case  in  a  roundabout  way ; 


SOME;  MONDAY  MORNING  PROBLEMS.  165 

but  Syd's  temper  was  ruffkd  for  the  day,  and  she  saw 
that  it  was  no  time  to  urge  Utopian  schemes. 

A  third  interruption  put  a  stop  to  the  conversation. 
Clem  appeared  to  announce  that  the  hogs  were  in  the 
truck  patch.  Syd  disappeared  around  the  corner, 
closely  followed  by  Clem,  the  frisky  house  cat  and 
Clem's  valiant  yellow  pup,  while  Lele,  laughing  at  the 
picture  they  made,  went  out  to  the  kitchen  to  see  if 
she  could  render  any  assistance  about  breakfast,  but 
had  tact  enough  to  discover  very  soon  that  Jennie 
regarded  her  room  with  more  favor  than  her  company, 
and  withdrew.  At  breakfast  Jean  sat  throughout  the 
meal  in  sullen  silence. 

Ed  was  in  his  place  again  looking  pretty  well  used 
up.  His  father  asked  him  sharply  where  he  had  been, 
and  he  answered  doggedly : 

"  Over  at  Redwood." 

The  other  members  of  the  family  tacitly  sanctioned 
the  deception,  not  seeming  willing  to  rouse  his  father's 
ire  by  stating  that  his  graceless  son  had  been  "  on  a 
tear."  The  consequence  would  probably  have  been 
unpleasant. 

After  breakfast  Lele  made  another  effort  to  render 
herself  useful  in  an  unobtrusive  way.  She  asked  Cora 
if  there  was  not  some  sewing  she  could  do.  -Cora,  who 
had  long  ago  been  nicknamed  Do'no  by  Charlie, 
because  she  never  knew  anything  until  she  had  first 
appealed  to  Jen,  sent  Tude  to  the  kitchen  to  inquire, 
and  presently  came  the  report : 


l66  THE    MAX    WITH    THE    HOE. 

,  "  I  told  her  what  you  said,  Code,  an'  she  said  she 
guessed  the  sky'd  fall  if  you  touched  a  needle  an' 
thread.  You  knowed  that  ever'  blessed  thing  about  the 
house  from  the  roof  to  your  stockin'  toes  needed 
patchin'  an'  yet  you'd  never  lay  scizzors  to  'em  if  you 
thought  the  rag-man  would  carry  you  off." 

"  I  didn't  send  for  the  whole  Congressional  Jour- 
nal," said  Cora,  using  one  of  her  father's  pet  phrases. 
"Where's  them  check  shirts  of  the  boys  —  say?" 

"  She  said  you  knowed  they'd  been  in  the  press  ever 
since  we  sold  Blue  Belle's  calf  and  put  the  money  intc 
check  an'  breeches  stuff  for  the  boys,  'cause  they  was 
that  ragged  they  looked  like  buzzards.  An'  her  not 
bein'  able  fer  six  weeks  to  sew  on  'em  after  she  got 
'em,  on  account  o'  the  machine  bein'  all  out  o'  whack." 

"  You  find  me  the  shirts,  Cora,  and  I'll  see  if  I 
can't  make  the  machine  work,"  said  Lele. 

Cora  found  the  shirts  —  already  cut  out  —  and  Lele 
made  an  attempt  to  "  fix  "  the  machine  ;  but  finding  that 
she  could  do  nothing  with  it,  sewed  by  hand  so  dili- 
gently than  when  Ed  came  in  to  dinner  she  was  put- 
ting the  finishing  stitches  in  a  new  shirt  for  him 
—  evidently  none  too  soon,  for  the  one  he  wore  was  in 
slits. 

"  Seamstress,  eh  ? "  he  said,  in  evident  surprise, 
when  she  displayed  her  work. 

"And  all  hand-made,  too ! "  said  Lele,  trium- 
phantly. "  The  machine  won't  work,  Ed.  Come  and 
see  what  ails  it." 


SOME   MONDAY    MORNING   PROBLEMS.  167 

"  Didn't  know  there  was  anything  the  matter,"  mut- 
tered Ed. 

"  It's  been  out  of  whack  for  six  blessed  weeks,"  said 
Cora,  yawning  and  rocking.  "  Jen  told  you  about  it, 
Ed,  an'  you  got  as  mad  as  hops,  an'  said  it  might  go  to 
—  I  don't  know  where  — 'fore  you'd  touch  it.  An'  Jen 
said  after  that  if  it  stood  there  till  the  last  one  of  you 
boys  went  to  rags  an'  had  to  take  to  the  woods  she'd 
never  say  '  beans  '  to  you  about  fixin'  that  machine 
again.  She'd  denied  herself  a  new  lawn  dress  to  buy 
the  check,  too." 

"If  she  hadn't  been  so  d — d  smart  I'd  have  fixed 
it  long  ago,"  said  Ed,  examining  the  machine.  "  Ex- 
cuse cussin',  Lele,"  he  added. 

Lele  sighed  and  said  nothing.  Ed  would  much 
have  preferred  a  lecture. 

It  happened  that  the  machine  was  not  so  badly  out 
of  order,  after  all.  A"  little  knowledge  of  machinery 
was  all  that  was  required  to  set  it  right,  and  by  the 
time  dinner  was  announced  every  thing  was  in  complete 
running  order  again.  Better  still,  Ed  had  donned  his 
new  shirt  and  his  face  wore  a  more  cheerful  look  than 
she  had  yet  seen  on  it.  He  was  not  such  a  bad-looking 
fellow  when  in  a  good  humor.  Lele,  for  the  first  time, 
discovered  that  his  eyes  were  really  good. 

"  You  love  machinery,  don't  you,  Ed  ?  "  she  said 
to  him  as  she  walked  out  to  the  gate  with  him  after 
dinner. 

"  Yes,  Lele,  I  do.  An'  it's  the  only  thing,  by 
jingo,  that  I  ever  did  love.  Much  good  it  does." 


l68  THE    MAX    WITH    THE    HOE. 

"  The  advantage  of  being  a  man  is  that  you  can 
choose  your  work,"  said  Lele,  tentatively. 

"  Just  about  as  much  as  this  yaller  dog  of  Clem's 
can  choose  his  home,"  said  Ed,  grimly.  "  We've  each 
got  our  places  picked  out  for  us,  an'  we've  got  to  stay 
in  'em  whether  or  no.  Darn  mine,  I  say !" 

"  I  don't  think  that's  the  way  Lincoln  regarded  rail- 
splitting,"  said  Lele.  "  I  think,  though  he  was  just 
aching  to  do  very  different  work,  he  resolved  so  long 
as  rail-splitting-  was  his  occupation  to  make  the  very 
best  ones  he  could." 

"  Yes,  but  he  was  Abe  Lincoln,  all  the  same,  an' 
I'm  only  —  Ed  Fairfax." 

"As  souls  are  rated,  Ed  Fairfax's  place  in  the  world 
is  just  as  important  as  the  Czar  of  Russia's.  No  man 
can  carry  the  honors  of  rhis  world  into  the  next." 

"  We  don't  know  anything  certain  about  the  next," 
said  Ed.  "  But  we  know  that  this  world  is  just  a 
walkover  for  some  people,  and  an  almighty  tough 
scramble  for  the  rest  of  113." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  a  good  many  have  felt  the  same. 
But  remember,  Ed,  there's  time  enough  to  wait  for  all 
good  things  except  character.  That  won't  wait.  Oh, 
Ed,  don't  you  see  that  there  is  no  grander  resolve  for 
a  boy  to  make  than  this :  '  Let  me  first  of  all  be  a  man, 
and  a  good  one  '  ?  " 

"  If  the  very  devil  was  not  in  this  old  farm  life  for 
me,  I'd  try  harder/'  said  Ed,  dejectedly;  "but"  —he 
sHook  his  head. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
MR.  FAIRFAX'S  VIEWS  ON  BOYS. 

"•Out  of  clothes,  out  of  countenance ;  out  of  countenance, 
cut  of  wit." — BEN  JONSON. 

After  thinking  a  great  deal  upon  the  subject  of 
Ed's  future,  Lele  had  decided  upon  what  she  deemed 
the  best  course  of  action  for  him.  In  pursuance  of 
the  plan  mentioned  to  Syd  that  morning,  she  had  writ- 
ten two  letters,  which  must  be  mailed  before  evening, 
if  ever:  one  to  her  guardian,  fully  explaining  her  rea- 
sons for  wishing  to  become  a  teacher,  and  asking  him 
to  present  her  inclosed  letter  of  application  to  the  Board 
of  Education.  The  other  she  sent  to  her  friend,  Mrs. 
Raymond,  asking  board  for  herself  and  Ed  if  she 
secured  the  coveted  position.  She  had  planned  an 
after-dinner  talk  with  her  father,  when  even  the  most 
unreasonable  men  are  supposed  to  be  in  a  mood  for 
granting  favors.  All  she  required  was  his  consent  to 
allow  Ed  to  leave  home.  She  felt  sure  that  she  could 
make  him  see  the  matter,  finally,  in  the  same  light  she 
did.  After  that  there  would  be  time  to  mail  the  letters. 

But  Mr.  Fairfax,  on  that  particular  day,  did  not 
return  to  dinner.  Monday,  being  washday,  was  not 
infrequently  the  most  unpleasant  day  in  the  week  at 
Fairfax  farm  ;  and  Omar  Fairfax  was  not  to  be  excelled 
for  skill  in  eluding  the  disagreeable.  Lele  had  not 

(  169) 


I7O  TH1-:    MAX    WITH    THE   HOE. 

counted  on  this;  still,  since  the  time  for  action  was  so 
limited,  she  dared  not  wait.  Another  day  would  prob- 
ably be  too  late  to  get  her  application  in  before  the 
Board  met.  She  took  the  first  opportunity  to  send  her 
letters  to  the  postoffice,  which  chanced  to  be  Ward 
Collins.  He  was  issuing  invitations  to  a  party,  and 
was  to  take  in  the  postoffice  en  route. 

Jennie  happened  to  be  on  the  veranda  with  Lele 
when  he  came,  and,  rather  to  the  latter's  surprise,  she 
met  him  cordially.  Ward,  when  asking  Lele  for  her 
company  to  the  party,  out  of  politeness  included  Jennie 
also.  She  hesitated  to  join  them,  well  knowing  that 
her  conduct  of  late  had  not  been  such  as  to  render  her 
society  agreeable  to  either  of  them. 

Lele,  remembering  her  promise  to  Syd  on  the  pre- 
vious evening,  had  intended  to  decline  going,  but  saw 
at  once  that  it  was  a  golden  opportunity  for  winning 
the  wayward  girl  by  giving  her  a  longed-for  pleasure. 

"  Jennie,"  she  said,  impulsively,  "  let  me  accept  for 
both.  Mr.  Collins,  we  accept  with  pleasure." 

So  it  was  settled,  and  Ward  soon  took  his  departure. 

"  I'll  call  at  half-past  five,"  he  said  at  parting. 
"  That  will  give  us-  time  enough  to  drive  around  by 
the  bluff  and  still  have  an  hour's  daylight  for  croquet. 
It's  lovely  around  the  bluff  by  moonlight,  isn't  it, 
Jennie  ?" 

"  I  never  saw  it  by  moonlight  that  I  can  remember," 
said  Jennie,  whose  moonlight  drives  had  been  few 
indeed. 

She  went  upstairs  the  moment  Ward  left,  and  Lele 


MR.  FAIRFAX'S  VIEWS  ON  BOYS.  171 

was  once  more  thrown  upon  her  own  resources  for 
entertainment.  As  she  sat  sewing  on  the  veranda,  she 
smiled  half  sadly  as  she  thought  of  her  step-sister's 
neglect. 

"And  yet  I  think  there  is  some  good  in  the  girl,  if 
I  can  ever  find  it,"  she  reflected. 

Jennie,  meanwhile,  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the 
bed  in  her  dingy  room,  pondering  over  Ward's  motive 
in  coming  here,  and  including  her,  for  the  first  time  for 
many  months,  in  an  invitation  to  a  party.  That  it  was 
a  bad  motive  she  had  no  doubt.  It  was  at  least  one 
that  would  increase  the  Fairfax  woes  if  it  depressed 
Jennie.  It  certainly  did  not  raise  her  spirits  much 
when  she  came  to  look  at  the  matter  from  all  sides. 
Dress  was,  of  course,  to  be  considered  first,  the  bare 
thought  of  which  was  to  Jennie  like  the  blowing  of 
the  east  wind  in  a  time  of  drought. 

Jennie's  wardrobe  was  of  the  slenderest.  Two 
dresses  composed  the  stock  available  for  company 
attire,  the  despised  lawn  and  her  faded  old  alpaca. 
She  took  them  both  out  of  the  press,  brushed  them 
carefully,  and  tried  in  various  ways  to  freshen  them 
up,  so  that  one  might  appear  presentable  enough  to 
wear.  But  with  her  best  efforts  they  both  looked 
shabby  enough ;  not  so  bad  here,  though,  where  every- 
thing looked  clingy  and  out  of  date,  as  they  would  when 
seen  in  Collins's  parlor,  beside  the  other  girls'  pretty 
new  dresses. 

Jennie  wondered  if  a  girl  was  ever  so  tried  with 
shabby  old  belongings  as  she  was  Her  hat  she  felt 


1/2  THE    MAX    WITH    THE    HOE. 

was  a  fright.  Charlie  and  even  Syd  had  remarked 
upon  its  unbecomingness,  and  boys  are  very  apt  to 
be  the  best  judges  of  such  things.  Her  gloves  were 
rubbed  and  split  out  at  the  fingers,  her  shoes  not  fit  to 
be  seen.  The  rest  of  the  family  were  as  badly  off  as 
herself,  except  Mr.  Fairfax,  who,  being  so  much  in  the 
public  eye,  had  to  dress.  His  children,  being  obscure 
.country  people,  had  to  keep  the  interest  on  the  mort- 
gage paid  up,  and  that  did  not  leave  much  margin  for 
fashionable  clothes.  The  father,  moreover,  was  too 
busy  looking  after  the  welfare  of  that  needy  giant,  the 
Public,  to  think  of  so  small  a  matter  as  the  wardrobe  of 
his  family.  If  he  spoke  of  it  at  all,  it  was  to  condemn 
Jennie  for  having  so  little  skill  with  her  needle.  Jen- 
nie's retort  upon  one  occasion  had  effectually  silenced 
him  for  a  time. 

"  Can  I  make  goods?"  she  had  acked,  passionately. 

As  Jennie  sat  there  meditating  upon  the  hopeless- 
ness of  either  "  rig  "  as  an  evening  dress,  she  looked 
back  over  the  arid  desert  of  the  last  two  years,  which 
should  have  been  the  happiest  years  of  her  girlhood  had 
her  mother  lived  and  monetary  matters  prospered  — 
years  that  had  been  just  crammed  with  moonlight 
drives  and  sleighrides  and  parties  for  Trix  and  Maud. 
How  bitter  to  her  was  the  contrast  between  their  lives 
and  hers !  Often  she  had  cried  herself  to  sleep  when 
there  was  a  party  to  which  she  was  not  invited,  or  could 
not  attend  for  lack  of  company.  And  now  that  she 
wras  invited,  and  had  a  way  to  go,  to  think  of  being 
kept  at  home  by  her  need  of  decent  clothes ! 


MR.    1'AIRl'AX  S    VIEWS    ON    BOYS.  173 

Jennie,  moreover,  had  been  Ward's  sweetheart  in 
their  childhood  days.  Not  until  she  was  old  enough 
to  put  on  long  dresses  and  had  been  forced  to  wear 
such  shabby  ones  had  the  Beau  Brummel  of  the  Ridge 
deserted  her  for  Maud  and  a  dozen  other  well-dressed 
girls. 

"  It  gives  me  the  lockjaw  to  see  Jinks  in  that  old 
alpaca,"  was  his  only  excuse.  "  I  couldn't  talk  to  her 
if  I  tried." 

On  his  way  home  that  afternoon  he  prayed  to  his 
god,  Eros  —  Ward  was  an  unconscious  idolater  —  that 
Jen's  hopeless  party  dresses  might  in  some  manner  be 
rendered  hors  du  combat  before  the  party  came  off. 

"  I  don't  want  to  haul  either  one  of  'em  in  my 
buggy,"  he  devoutly  added. 

Jennie,  while  helpless,  felt  instinctively  that  her 
mode  of  dress  had  cost  her  a  very  handsome  lover. 
And  Jen  worshiped  beauty.  It  was  but  another  drop 
in  her  cup  of  bitterness  that  the  only  man  who  had  ever 
tried  to  win  her  for  a  wife  had  been  the  champion  ugly 
man  of  the  neighborhood, —  a  bald-headed^  broken- 
nosed  widower, —  who  had  been  her  pet  aversion  all 
her  life.  It  did  not  afford  much  balm  for  her  wounded 
pride  to  know  that  her  lack  of  style  was  one  thing  that 
had  attracted  to  her  side  this  economical  admirer. 

"  Jinny'll  never  break  up  no  man  with  her  extrav- 
agance," Mr.  Markley  had  remarked  at  the  Ridge  one 
day  before  services,  when  the  farmers  were  holding  a 
conference  on  cut-worms  and  hard  times  generally. 
Charlie,  who  had  overheard  him,  had  quoted  this  so 


174  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

often,  and  in  so  many  different  keys,  that  Jennie  won- 
dered sometimes  how  she  would  lire  and  keep  her 
senses  until  he  exchanged  it  for  some  new  mode  of 

torture. 

****** 

Mr.  Fairfax  came  home  to  supper.  After  the  meal 
was  over,  Lele  went  into  the  garden  to  have  a  chat  with 
this  excellent  gentleman,  who,  minus  his  coat,  but  plus 
vest,  cuffs,  a  fashionable  hat,  and  a  laundried  collar 
that  sawed  his  chin,  had  decided  to  hoe  a  few  weeds, 
but  abandoned  the  uncongenial  work  with  great  cheer- 
fulness as  soon  as  his  daughter  joined  him.  Mr.  Fair- 
fax, like  too  many  of  us,  never  could  talk  and  work  at 
the  same  time. 

"  Oh,  don't  let  me  interrupt,"  pleaded  Lele.  "  I 
can  talk  while  you  work." 

"  No  matter ;  I  can  make  but  little  headway,  the 
weeds  have  got  such  a  start,"  said  Mr.  Fairfax,  glanc- 
ing about  him  impatiently.  "  This  looks  bad,  Lelia,  to 
see  things  in  the  vegetable  garden  in  such  shape.  But 
that's  the  way  my  boys  do.  Syd  will  be  busy  with  the 
wheat  —  what  with  hauling,  threshing  and  exchanging 
work  —  for  the  next  month,  I'll  wager,  and  by  that 
time  all  hope  of  a  profitable  garden  will  be  blasted. 
The  weeds  will  be  taller  than  the  picket  fence." 

"  It  would  take  one  man  most  of  the  time  to  care 
for  it,"  said  Lele. 

"  I  might  do  it  myself  if  I  were  at  home.  But  I'm 
away  half  my  time.  If  the  girls  hoed  more  in  the 


MR.  FAIRFAX'S  VIEWS  ON  BOYS.  175 

garden  and  mowed  less  on  the  lawn,  it  would  really  be 
more  profitable.  Jennie  bas  been  boiling  ever  since  the 
horses  got  into  her  flower  beds  the  other  night.  Fuss- 
ing over  the  lawn  is  ruining  her  temper.  I  wish  Syd 
would  plough  it  all  up  and  put  it  in  tobacco.  And  half 
the  trees  might  be  cut  down  for  firewood.  But  Syd 
and  Jennie  both  have  the  crankiest  notions!  For  one 
thing,  they  will  have  the  veranda  and  chimneys  loaded 
with  vines.  They're  nothing  but  snake  harbors." 

"  Have  you  ever  found  any  snakes  in  them  ?'  asked 
Lele. 

Mr.  Fairfax  struck  an  attitude  and  was  about  to 
begin  a  dissertation  on  reptiles,  he  being  local  authority 
on  that  rather  "crawly"  subject.  Lele  saw  that  her 
only  chance  for  being  heard  was  to  ignore  her  own 
question  and  speak  first. 

"  Papa,"  she  began,  hurriedly,  "  I  was  so  sorry  that 
you  did  not  come  home  to  dinner.  Let  me  tell  you 
what  I  have  ventured  to  do.  I  do  so  hope  you  will 
not  disapprove."  And  she  told  him  at  once  just  what 
she  had  done.  Mr.  Fairfax  dropped  the  hoe  as  if 
paralyzed. 

"  Crack-brained  girl  that  you  are !"  he  cried. 
"  Would  you  send  the  boy  straight  to  perdition  ?" 

"  Rather  I  would  try  to  help  him  attain  a  useful 
manhood,"  said  Lele,  much  hurt. 

"  Haven't  I  forbidden  you  to  mention  machinery  to 
him  again?" 

"  I  could  not  believe  you  really  meant  it." 


176  THE    MAX    WITH    THE   HOE. 

''Foolish,  foolish  girl!"  muttered  Mr.  Fairfax. 

"  You  will  not  allow  me  even  to  speak  to  Ed  on  the 
subject,  even  if  I  get  the  school?"  questioned  Lele. 

"  If  you  have  any  respect  for  my  wishes,  no, 
emphatically  no!' 

"  But  wouldn't  it  be  better  to  encourage  him  in 
some  honorable  occupation  that  he  likes,  than  compel 
him  to  stay  on  the  farm  until  he  gets  desperate  and 
runs  away?" 

"  Pooh !  there's  no  danger  of  his  running  away." 

"  He  told  me  he  would  not  stay  here  another  year." 

"And  Syd  said  the  same  thing  at  his  age.  Now 
you'll  not  find  a  steadier  worker  than  that  same  Syd. 
At  eighteen  he  got  restless  and  dissatisfied;  wasn't 
making  any  headway,  he  said ;  wanted  to  teach  school, 
go  to  college,  be  a  lawyer,  doctor,  or  something.  Farm 
life  was  too  slow,  too  plodding,  too  confining ;  felt  that 
he  had  faculties  that  were  rusting  out  here,  etc. 
Fiddlesticks!  Suppose  I'd  gone  to  the  expense  of 
sending  him  to  college ;  the  farm  would  have  gone 
under  the  hammer  for  lack  of  help  to  carry  it  on,  and 
Syd  would  to-day  have  been  sitting  in  some  dingy  law 
office  waiting  for  clients  and  gnawing  crusts.  Ed  likes 
to  hear  himself  talk  ;  but  barking  dogs  seldom  bite,  you 
know.  All  he  wants  is  to  have  that  wheel  nonsense 
taken  out  of  his  head,  as  the  lawyer  tomfoolery  was 
out  of  Syd's,  and  he'll  be  all  right." 

"  But,  father,  you  ought  to  consider  the  difference 
in  the  two  boys.  Syd's  character  is  totally  unlike  Ed's. 
What  would  build  up  one  might  destroy  the  other. 


MR.  FAIRFAX'S  VIEWS  ON  BOYS.  177 

Parents  surely  ought  to  consider  the  tastes  of  their 
children  in  assigning  them  life  occupations.  A  man 
can  only  work  cheerfully  when  his  heart  is  in  his  work, 
and  I  am  sure  Ed's  heart  is  not  in  farm  work." 

"  Well,  if  he  had  some  of  the  laziness  taken  out  of 
him,  his  heart  would  be  in  the  work,"  said  Mr.  Fairfax, 
irritably. 

"  Father,  do  you  like  farm  work  ?" 

"  I  don't  follow  the  plow  any  more  myself.  I'm  too 
old  now."  (Mr.  Fairfax  was  fifty.)  "And  besides  it 
takes  one  to  manage  while  others  work.  Furthermore, 
I  have  so  much  business  to  transact  for  others,  and  so 
much  to  see  to,  that  I  can  scarcely  find  an  hour  to  call 
my  own.  There's  a  man  looking  for  me  now  —  some- 
thing about  the  new  pike,  I  suppose,  or  maybe  the 
bridge,  or  a  subpoena.  I  must  find  out  what  he  wants. 
If  I'm  called  away  from  home  —  as  is  likely  —  there's 
not  a  day  passes  that  I'm  not  wanted  somewhere  — 
remember,  not  a  word  to  Ed  about  this  new  project 
of  yours.  It  would  be  a  foolish  step  for  you  to  take, 
in  any  event.  Better  stay  with  the  Carpenters  and 
enjoy  yourself." 

"  Enjoy  myself  while  Ed's  life  is  being  spoiled !" 
exclaimed  Lelc.  And  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  Tut,  tut !  No  use  to  worry  about  him.  I  know 
all  about  boys,  and  you  don't.  Let  them  see  that 
they've  got  to  toe  the  line,  and  they  toe  it!  Look  what 
I've  saved  Syd  from.  And  the  same  rule  works  well 
with  girls.  Think  of  Jennie  strolling  over  the  country 
with  some  low  comedy  company !  Instead,  she's  in  a 
(12) 


178  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE.  * 

respectable  home,  likely  to  marry,  one  of  these  days,  a 
man  who  has  a  good  home  to  offer  her.  Depend  upon 
it,  Lele,  Ed  wants  nothing  so  much  as  a  damper  on  this 
wheel  craze.  A  little  injudicious  encouragement  has 
spoiled  many  a  man  for  life." 

Lele  wondered,  as  she  left  him,  whose  encourage- 
ment had  spoiled  her  father.  Somebody's  evidently 
had! 

Oh,  for  some  wise,  sympathizing  friend  to  appeal 
to  in  her  perplexity ! 

When  the  boys  came  in  for  supper,  Lele,  who  was 
sitting  on  the  back  porch  caressing  some  cunning,  vel- 
vety balls  of  kittens  which  Tude  had  just  placed  in  her 
lap,  noticed  that  they  all  looked  tired  and  jaded.  Your 
farmer  in  harvest,  far  from  looking  fat  and  hearty  on 
the  bountiful  harvest  fare,  looks  lantern-jawed  and 
hollow-eyed.  And  no  wonder.  Constant  heavy  work 
from  3  A.  M.  till  9  p.  M.  is  enough  to  break  any  man 
down.  The  two  older  ones  went  into  the  house  through 
the  kitchen  as  though  wishing  to  avoid  her,  but  Clem 
and  Charlie  dropped  down  on  the  grass  at  her  feet  to 
look  at  the  kittens. 

"What  have  you  boys  been  doing  since  dinner?" 
asked  Lele,  pulling  Clem's  ear  by  way  of  a  friendly 
overture. 

("  She  forgets  how  mean  we  treated  her  about  the 
presents,"  thought  Clem,  and  felt  disposed  to  drop  a 
penitential  kiss  upon  her  white  fingers.) 

"  Tryin'  to  put  Hubbard's  cows  out  o'  the  corn," 
Charlie  was  replying.  "  They'd  been  in  all  morning, 


MR.    FAiKl-AXS    VIEWS    ON    BOYS. 


takin'  it  row  at  a  time.  We  never  did  have  any  real 
nice  corn  that  some  dratted  beast  didn't  make  way 
with.  I  reckon  they'd  finished  it  if  Ward  Collins  hadn't 
seen  'em  an'  stopped  to  tell  us  as  he  came  by.  He  was 
tellin'  the  boys  somethin'  about  a  party  somewhere,  but 
I  don't  b'lieve  Syd  ever  waited  to  see  where  it  was  to 
be,  he  was  that  mad  about  the  cattle.  Where  is  the 
party,  Lele?" 

"At  Mr.  Collins's." 

"Well,  I'll  bet  Syd  an'  Ed  don't  go.  They  never 
invite  Ed,  'cause  Miss  Trix  is  too  good  to  speak  to  him. 
She  says  no  drunken  gambler  shall  enter  her  parlor; 
for  all,  Morris  St.  John  takes  a  glass  now  an'  then,  but 
she  don't  seem  to  know  that." 

"  Does  Ed  really  gamble?" 

"  He  plays  '  keerds  '  out  in  the  barn  all  night  some- 
times, an'  down  to  the  station,  too;  he  loses  money  at 
it,  or  would  if  he  had  any  to  lose.  Father's  got  a 
notice  out  that  he  won't  pay  any  of  his  debts." 

"  Charlie,  tell  me,  has  Ed  been  "  —  -she  hesitated  — 
"  intoxicated  often  ?" 

"  He's  been  drunk  lots  of  times  this  spring,  but 
father  doesn't  know  it.  He  always  sobers  up,  you  see, 
before  the  ole  man  gets  back.  He'd  have  skinned  him 
alive  if  he'd  been  here  Saturday  night,"  he  added,  in 
a  guarded  undertone. 

"  You'd  better  keep  dark,"  warned  Clem.  "  Ed's 
in  a  high  ole  temper  this  evening.  Him  an'  Syd's  both 
mad  ez  hornets." 

"  Quarreling  again  !  "  sighed  Lele. 


l8o  THE    MAX    WITH    THE    HOE. 

"  Syd  didn't  say  much,  but  I  c'd  see  he  hed  all 
he  c'd  do  to  hold  his  tongue,"  said  Clem.  "  Ed  got 
mad  at  the  cattle  first,  an'  then  him  an'  Syd  had  a  scrap, 
an'  the  cuss  words  flew  like  sut  when  the  chimbley's 
afire." 

"Ain't  it  awful?"  said  Tude.  "He'll  go  to  the 
bad  place,  sure." 

"  Syd  can't  bear  t'  be  swore  at,"  Clem  went  on. 
"  It  just  raises  his  dander,  an'  makes  him  fly  all  to 
pieces.  I  never  knowed  anybody's  stock  get  into  our 
fields  that  them  two  didn't  have  a  racket  'fore  we  got 
'em  finally  boosted,  did  you,  Charlie  ?  " 

"  Har'ly  ever.  But  this  morning  Syd  seemed 
bound  not  to  jaw  Ed,  though  I  c'd  see  he  wanted  to 
whip  the  earth  with  him.  If  I'd  ben  Syd  I'd  have 
knocked  him  down  with  a  rock." 

"Oh,  Charlie!" 

"  Sometimes  I  wish  Ed  would  go  'long  off ;  he 
keeps  us  all  riled  till  we  can't  see  straight." 

"  Doesn't  Syd  '  rile  '  you,  too  ?  " 

"  No,  Lele.  To  be  sure,  he  makes  us  work  like 
clinkers,  an'  won't  stan'  no  foolishness.  But  he  tries 
to  do  right,  an'  he  wants  things  done  in  good  shape. 
If  it  wasn't  for  him,  everything  about  this  ranch  would 
go  to  sticks.  But  I  think  we'd  get  along  better  if  we 
didn't  have  to  drive  stock  so  much.  The  fences  are 
rotten  as  pears,  an'  on  an  average  of  five  times -a  week 
we've  got  to  have  a  siege  of  fence-fixin'  an'  runnin' 
stock  helter-skelter,  over  hills  an'  hollers,  through 
plowed  ground,  briar  patches  an'  what  not,  till  we're 


MR.  FAIRFAX'S  VIEWS  ON  BOYS.  181 

mad  at  each  other  an'  everything  else.  No  wonder 
we're  so  ragged,"  he  added,  displaying  a  tattered  sleeve. 
"  If  we  dressed  in  buckskin,  we  couldn't  keep  in  clothes, 
an'  Jen  bawls  pretty  near  every  ironin'  day  'cause 
there's  such  a  jolly  lot  of  things  to  patch." 

"  The  fences  must  be  bad !  " 

"  Bad !  They're  nothin'  much  but  brush  heaps.  If 
pap  had  built  good  fences  when  he  had  money,  instead 
o  speculatin'  it  away,  we'd  be  better  off.  But  he  never 
sees  to  anything  except  public  business.  Private  busi- 
ness is  too  small  for  him.  He's  always  sayin'  what 
a  fine  occupation  farmin'  is.  I  guess  if -he'd  run  hogs 
an'  cattle  as  much  as  the  rest  of  us,  he'd  change  his 
mind." 

"  Charlie,  I  may  be  mistaken,  but  I'm  afraid  you 
children  have  gotten  into  the  habit  of  criticising  other 
members  of  the  family  who  are  absent.  Isn't  it  a  little 
unkind  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  it  destroys  confidence  in 
families,  and  makes  each  one's  ears  begin  to  burn  as 
soon  as  he  is  out  of  sight  of  the  ot'hers.  If  charity 
begins  at  home,  why  not  begin  by  being  charitable  to 
each  other's  faults?  Could  any  of  us  be  happy  if  we 
knew  that  we  were  being  found  fault  with  by  all  the 
rest  of  the  family  every  time  our  backs  were  turned  ?  " 

The  children  hung  their  heads  guiltily. 

'*  Happiness,"  she  resumed,  in  her  softest  voice,  "  is 
the  best  thing  we  can  possess  in  this  world,  and  even 
the  smallest  child  soon  learns  that  no  one  can  be  happy 
without  the  love  and  confidence  of  its  nearest  relatives. 
F^ault-finding  is  one  of  the  surest  ways  of  making 


l82  THE    MAX    WITH    THE    HOE. 

our  dearest  friends  miserable.         Take  poor  Ed,  for 
instance  " — 

"  People  who  don't  know  anything  about  bears 
think  bears  make  nice  pets,"  interrupted  Charlie. 

"  Well,  they  do  in  time,"  said  Lele,  smiling,  "  if 
they  are  properly  trained,  you  know.  I'd  have  been 
a  perfect  little  wildcat,  myself,  if  I'd  been  permitted  to 
grow  up  untrained." 

"  I'll  bet  you  never  had  anything  to  make  you  mad 
in  your  life,"  retorted  Charlie,  adding  slyly,  "  till  you 
came  here !  " 

"  You  ought  to  drive  sheep  an'  hogs  once,"  added 
Clem,  with  conviction. 

"  I  know  it  must  be  trying.  I  sympathize  with  you 
truly,  and  if  I  ever  have  it  in  my  power,  I  shall  rebuild 
the  fences  just  to  give  you  boys  a  season  of  peace  and 
quiet.  I'm  as  sorry  for  you  as  I  can  be." 

Lele's  sympathy  was  very  taking.  The  boys  drew 
nearer;  her  presence  did  them  good.  Charlie  had 
thought  when  she  began  her  little  sermon  on  fault- 
finding that  he  would  slip  a  cricket  down  the  back  of 
her  neck  to  see  if  she  would  "  take  on  "  as  Jen  did 
when  her  sermons  were  similarly  interrupted.  But 
now  he  resolved  to  postpone  it.  Lele  \vas  such  a  sweet 
girl ;  it  would  be  a  mean  shame  to  aggravate  her  with 
crickets  after  all  she  had  been  through  here! 
******* 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  I  like  that  girl !  "  exclaimed 
Clem,  as  he  climbed  into  bed  that  night.  "  She's  real 
pleasant,  an'  her  laugh  makes  you  kind  of  feel  good. 


MR.  FAIRFAX'S  VIKWS  ox  BOYS.  183 

.  I  wish  Jin  was  more  like  her.  Confound  Jin !  It's 
got  so  here  lately  it's  har'ly  safe  to  walk  past  her,  fear 
she'll  give  you  a  whack,  unbeknownst.  I  actually 
wouldn't  put  it  much  a-past  her  to  come  up  here  after 
we're  asleep  an'  give  us  a  clubbin'  for  some  of  our 
misdemeanors." 

"  'Sphyxia  would  get  the  worst  end  o'  the  bargain 
if  she  tried  clubbin'  me  unbeknownst,"  said  Charlie, 
drumming  on  the  headboard.  "  I  say,  Clem,  I  do 
wonder  if  Lele's  ever  seen  the  ghost  yet." 

"  I  d'know."  Clem  shut  his  eyes,  because  he  fan- 
cied he  saw  a  light  spot  shining  in  the  darkness. 
"  S'pose  Jen  'd  care  if  she  did?" 

"  No;  I'll  be  bound  she  wouldn't.  Jen's  that  hard- 
hearted she  wouldn't  care  if  it  scared  her  to  death." 

"It's  mean  of  her  to  put  Lele  in  the  spare  room, 
ain't  it?" 

"  Mean  ez  dirt,  an'  I'M  tell  Jin  so  the  next  time  she 
turns  her  lip  on  me.  I  wish  sometimes  she'd  get  mar- 
ried 'fore  she  gits  so  ill  there's  no  livin'  with  her." 

"  Don't  you  pity  her  husband,  though  ?  " 

"  Not  if  she  gets  ole  Markley,  for  he  thrashed  me 
once  for  stealin'  his  pears.  I've  been  tryin'  to  get  even 
with  him  ever  since,  an'  I  guess  I'll  not  be  able  to 
do  better  than  to  get  up  a  match  between  him  an'  Jen. 
Won't  his  ears  ring,  though !" 

"  I'll  bet  she'll  be  an  ole  maid." 

"  You'll  have  to  take  care  of  her,  then,  when  you 
marry.  She'll  be  apt  to  make  her  home  with  you, 
Clem." 


184  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

"I'll  not!"  cried  Clem,  stoutly.  "You  can  take 
care  of  her  your  own  self." 

"  It  will  be  just  like  you  an'  Cora  to  take  her,  for 
neither  of  you  have  the  spunk  of  a  chicken-creeper." 

"  I'll  show  you  whether  I  have  the  spunk  of  a 
chicken-creeper !  "  said  Clem,  angrily ;  and  he  kicked 
his  brother  out  of  bed. 


CHAPTER  XV. 
THE  FAIRY  GODMOTHER. 

On  the  morning  of  the  party,  Lele,  seeing  that  the 
younger  girls  were  disposed  to  be  more  friendly,  called 
them  into  her  room  to  give  them  some  of  the  clothing 
which  she  had  outgrown,  and  had  packed  for  her 
younger  sisters.  Among  them  was  a  white  India  linen 
adorned  with  pale  blue  ribbons,  and  a  silver  gray  cash- 
mere that  a  very  little  altering  would  transform  into 
stylish  suits  for  Cora.  The  two  girls,  utterly  forgetful 
of  Jennie  and  wild  with  delight,  instantly  pulled  off 
their  old  faded  calico  dresses  and  shabby  shoes  and 
stocking  to  try  on  those  Lele  had  brought.  There 
were  several  beautiful  dresses  that  were  not  a  bad 
fit  for  Tude,  nor  so  badly  out  of  date  that  a  little 
remodeling  would  not  render  quite  presentable. 

"  Oh,  dear !  I  never  expected  to  have  so  pretty  a 
dress  as  this,"  sighed  Cora,  gazing  rapturously  in  the 
glass  after  donning  the  gray  cashmere.  "  It  fits  me  as 
well  as  if  it  had  been  made  for  me,  and,  I  declare,  it's 
prettier  than  Sue  Hubbard's  new  summer  silk." 

"  It's  very  becoming,  Cora,  or  will  be  when  I  touch 
it  up  a  little,"  said  Lele.  "  I  hope  you'll  like  it." 

"  Oh,  I'll  like  it,"  said  Cora,  in  her  soft,  easy  way. 
"  It  suits  me  down  to  the  ground.  May  I  go  show  it 
to  Jin  ?  " 

(  185 ) 


l86  THE   MAN   WITH   THE   HOE. 

"  You'd  better  not.  She'll  skin  you  if  you  do," 
warned  Tude.  "  You  know  what  she  said." 

Cora  raised  her  eyebrows  and  pursed  up  her  lips 
thoughtfully. 

"  It  would  make  her  mad,  I  guess,  like  the  time 
you  said  all  the  rest  but  her  were  to  come  up  after 
bur  presents.  She  was  hoppin',  I  tell  you !  But  I  do 
hope  she  won't  make  me  give  this  back,  for  I  need  a 
new  dress  so  much.  I  wish  it  was  longer,  for  then 
Jen  might  have  it  herself.  She  needs  it  awful  bad." 

"  She  won't  let  you  keep  it,  I  know,"  sighed  Tude. 
"  Just  think,  Code,  how  her  old  lawn,  or  the  alpaca, 
either,  would  look  by  that  rich,  gray  dress !  " 

"  It's  cashmere,  too,"  Cora  added,  as  though  that 
made  the  case  hopeless,  "just  like  Sue  Hubbard's 
spring  dress."  (Sue  was  just  Cora's  age  and  her  cri- 
terion in  everything.  All  through  childhood  they  had 
been  chums,  but  of  late  they  had  been  drifting  apart, 
just  as  Trix  and  Jennie  had  done  when  the  difference 
in  their  fortunes  began  to  be  manifested  in  "  clothes 
and  beaux.")  "  Jen's  been  nearly  crazy  for  a  cash- 
mere ever  so  long.  But  none  of  us  ever  had  one  —  not 
even  mamma.  Jen's  alpaca  was  made  out  of  an  old 
one.  Don't  you  think,  Lele,  that  this  dress  could  be 
let  down  some  way,  so  she  could  wear  it?  We  need 
never  let  her  know  that  I  tried  it  on  first." 

"  What  is  she  going  to  wear  to-night  ?  "  asked  Lele. 

"  Her  alpaca,  I'xpect.  I  wanted  her  to  press  off  the 
lawn  and  wear  it;  but  she  says  it  looks,  if  anything, 
worse  than  the  other,  and  I  don't  know  but  it  does. 


THE   FAIRY   GODMOTHER.  187 

Them's  the  only  two  dresses  she  has  fit  to  wear  away 
from  home." 

Lele  turned  abruptly  away  and  began  to  rummage 
through  the  closet.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed,  a  lump 
was  in  her  throat ;  she  could  hardly  keep  from  crying. 

Think  of  it!  Only  two  dresses  for  company;  one 
of  them  a  cheap  lawn,  and  the  other  a  rusty  alpaca 
made  out  of  an  old  one.  What  would  Lele  feel  like 
if  her  wardrobe  were  as  skimpy  as  that?  Involun- 
tarily, she  took  down  a  rich,  black  etamine,  made 
early  in  the  spring,  and  for  some  reason  never  worn 
but  once.  This  would  suit  Jennie,  and  if  she  would 
accept  it,  she  should  have  it  for  her  own.  Lele  felt 
pretty  sure  that  they  were  near  enough  of  one  size  to 
insure  that  it  would  fit  her.  It  was  only  one  out  of 
an  abundant  wardrobe,  for  Lele  had  never  known  what 
it  was  to  be  denied  a  new  dress  whenever  she  wanted 
one.  In  that  respect  her  aunt  had  been  the  soul  of 
liberality.  In  fact,  nothing  was  too  good  for  her  pretty 
niece.  Had  Lele  demanded  diamonds,  she  would  have 
tried  to  gratify  her. 

"  I  wonder  if  Jennie  would  accept  this,"  Lele  said. 

"  What !  that  lovely  dress !  "  exclaimed  Cora,  in 
amazement.  "  You  must  be  rich  if  you  can  afford  to 
give  that  away." 

"  No,  I'm  not  rich ;  but  I  have  plenty  of  clothes, 
and  it  isn't  right  that  I  should  have  so  many  more  than 
Jennie." 

"Jen  never  dreamed  of  anything  so  swell,"  sighed 
Cora,  and  suddenly  caught  her  breath  as  she  added: 


i88  THE;  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE. 

"  Oh,  I'd  forgot  her  dreadful  crackled  shoes,  an'  that 
hat  of  hers.  Lele,  don't  offer  it  to  her.  I'm  sure  she'd 
never  put  it  on  till  she  can  get  somethin'  to  correspond 
with  it." 

"  I'll  see  to  that,  of  course,"  said  Lele. 

She  added  to  the  dress  a  hat,  a  collar,  handkerchief, 
kid  gloves,  a  ribbon  and  a  pair  of  slippers  dainty 
enough  for  Cinderella,  except  in  size ;  wrote  on  a 
card,  "  Jennie,  from  Lele,"  pinned  it  on,  and  bade  her 
sisters  carry  the  whole  costume  to  Jennie's  room  and 
say  that  Lele  had  sent  her  love  and  begged  that  she 
would  accept  it  all  as  a  token  of  sisterly  regard. 

"  We'll  not  tell  her  what  it  is,"  said  Tude,  as  Cora 
carefully  arranged  the  costume  on  Jennie's  bed. 
"  We'll  tell  her  there's  something  on  her  bed,  an'  see 
her  bounce  up-stairs  with  the  broom  to  drive  it  out, 
for  she'll  "be  certain  it's  the  cat." 

Cora,  upon  mature  reflection,  thought  it  quite  too 
much  trouble  to  go  down-stairs  and  come  up  again 
to  see  the  effect  of  the  surprise,  but  hid  in  Syd's  bed- 
room opposite  and  listened  for  Jennie,  who,  true  to 
Tude's  prediction,  came  up  prepared  to  do  brilliant 
execution  with  the  broom,  but  stopped  short  and  stood 
rigid  .as  though  paralyzed  by  the  sight  of  the  dress. 
The  broom  slipped  from  her  belligerent  grasp  and  fell 
to  the  floor  as  she  picked  up  Lele's  card  and  read  it. 

Cora  and  Tude  rushed  in,  bursting  with  laughter, 
and  delivered  Lele's  sisterly  message.  Jennie  did  not 
say  a  word  in  reply;  she  couldn't.  Hastily  putting 
them  both  out  of  the  room,  she  locked  the  door, 


THE  FAIRY   GODMOTHER.  189 

threw  herself  down  on  Tude's  bed,  and  burst  into  a 
passion  of  tears. 

The  two  girls  went  down-stairs  with  a  disappointed 
air. 

"  Jen's  so  everlastin'  queer,"  said  Cora.  "  You 
never  know  whether  she's  goin'  to  go  into  hysterics 
or  blow  you  sky  high.  I  wish  she  was  more  like  other 
girls." 

"An'  what  we're  to  tell  Lele —  when  she  was  so 
clever  with  her  presents  —  I  can't  say,"  mused  Tude. 
"Anybody  that  couldn't  say  'thankee'  for  that  rich 
dress ! " 

As  Jean  grew  calmer,  her  first  impulse  was  to  thank 
Lele,  humbly  ask  her  forgiveness,  and  strive  to  make 
the  rest  of  her  visit  as  pleasant  as  possible.  It  was 
heaping  coals  of  fire  on  her  head  with  a  vengeance 
for  Lele,  whom  she  had  treated  so  unkindly,  to  make 
her  a  present  of  the  very  things  she  needed  most,  and 
at  a  time  when  it  seemed  out  of  the  question  for  her 
to  refuse.  Jennie  fairly  writhed  with  shame  when  she 
thought  of  her  abominable  rudeness  so  nobly  requited. 
And  yet  so  strong  is  habit,  she  found  that  she  could 
not  put  her  resolve  into  execution. 

She  thought  about  it  all  day,  one  minute  willing 
to  keep  the  gift. and  make  the  bitter  and  humiliating 
confession ;  the  next,  resolved  to  give  the  whole  outfit 
back  and  go  on  as  she  had  been  doing. 

"  I  don't  really  want  her  here  under  any  consider- 
ation," was  the  cry  of  jealous  pain.  "  I  want  to  drive 
her  away  where  I  can  never  be  tormented  by  the  sight 
of  her." 


190  THE;  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE. 

At  last  she  resolved  to  wear  the  dress  to  the  party 
—  the  temptation  was  irresistible  when  she  found  that 
everything,  even  to  the  shoes  and  gloves,  fitted  as  if 
made  for  her  —  but  not  until  time  to  dress  for  the 
party  could  she  bring  herself  to  address  Lele  on  the 
subject  —  poor,  disenchanted  Lele,  who  in  "  the  broad- 
minded,  deep-hearted  country "  had  so  confidently 
looked  "  for  broad,  Christian  charity,  for  simple,  con- 
sistent, child-like  faith  in  God  and  man." 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  lend  me  the  dress,"  she  said  ; 
"  I  wouldn't  wear  one  that  wasn't  mine  on  any  account, 
only  I  don't  want  you  to  have  to  appear  in  such  shab- 
bily dressed  company  as  I  should  otherwise  be." 

"  I  shall  be  very  much  hurt  if  you  mention  return- 
ing the  dress  or  anything  I  sent  with  it,"  said  Lele. 
"  I  want  you  to  have  it  all  for  your  very  own,  Jennie 
dear." 

The  girl's  eyes  filled  with  tears  and  she  turned 
away  without  saying  a  word.  Charlie,  who  was  stand- 
ing near,  caught  Lele  by  the  arm,  whispering  dramati- 
cally — 

"  Lele,  you've  crossed  the  Rubicon  an'  squelched 
the  enemy  right  in  her  own  country.  So  help  me 
gracious !  " 

Ed  and  Syd,  very  much  to  Lele's  disappointment, 
obstinately  refused  to  go  to  the  party,  though  without 
assigning  any  particular  reasons. 

Jennie  had  four-o'clock  supper  in  crder  that  the 
evening  work  might  all  be  done  up  before  time  to 
go,  running  herself  nearly  "  off  her  feet "  to  get  her 


THE    FAIRY    GODMOTHER.  IQI 

work  in  such  a  shape  that  she  felt  she  could  leave  it. 
When  she  went  up-stairs  to  dress  she  was  tired  enough 
to  "  sink  in  her  tracks." 

"  What's  the  use- to  go,  tired  as  I  am,"  she  thought, 
despondently.  "I'll  only  be  a  wall-flower;  Lele  will 
get  all  the  attention." 

She  put  on  the  beautiful  slippers  and  felt  slightly 
refreshed. 

"  I  guess  I'll  risk  it,"  she  thought.  When  her  toilet 
was  complete  she  felt  like  another  girl. 

"  Jee-whizz !  don't  she  loom !  "  cried  Charlie,  put- 
ting his  head  in  at  the  half-open  door.  "  Jen,  you're 
no  slouch  —  it's  the  way  you  comb  your  hair." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,"  said  Jennie,,  less  sharply  than 
usual,  however. 

"  There  ain't  no  flies  on  that  dress !  "  said  Charlie, 
admiringly ;  "  an',  by  gorry !  that  hat  is  all  wool  an' 
a  yard  wide,  or  I  ain't  here." 

"  Keep  still,  Charlie,"  said  Jennie,  with  a  start. 
She  had  heard  a  man's  voice  down-stairs. 

"  It  ain't  ole  Markley's  step  you  hear,"  said  Charlie. 
"  I  say,  Jen,  I  would  give  ole  sheepy  the  -go-by  if  I 
could  do  better.  It  would  be  worth  while  to  set  that 
cap  at  a  handsomer  man." 

Lele,  some  time  earlier,  had  gone  down-stairs  in  a 
gauzy  black  dress  that  made  her  skin  look  like  ala- 
baster. She  found  Ed  in  the  sitting  room  mending 
one  of  Tude's  toys. 

"'What  do  7  care  for  a  party?"  he  growled,  when 
she  made  a  last  effort  to  coax  him  to  go.  "  I  never 


192  THE    MAN    WITH    THIS    HOE. 

was  at  but  two  parties  in  my  life,  an'  I  thought  if  I 
got  away  from  them  without  turnin'  to  stone  or  salt, 
I'd  never  go  to  another.  Dryest  places  't  ever  / 
was  at." 

"  You  ought  to  keep  going,  though,"  said  Lele. 
"  Parties  are  really  the  thing  a  young  fellow  of  your 
age  needs.  They  help  you  socially,  and  " — 

"  Well,  if  you  want  a  society  man,  I'll  cite  you  to 
pap,"  said  Ed.  "  I  shouldn't  wonder  a  bit  if  he'd  go 
if  he  could  have  half  a  chance." 

"  Seriously,  Ed,  I  think  it  helps  a  boy  in  many  ways 
to  go  to  parties.  For  one  thing,  it  places  him  in  the 
society  of  good  people  and  ought  to  give  him  a  distaste 
for  low  characters.  Being  with  nice  girls  is  a  great 
help  to  any  young  man." 

"  The  '  nice  girls  '  of  Bethany  Ridge  wouldn't  wipe 
their  old  shoes  on  me,"  said  Ed,  with  a  look  of  bitter 
humiliation,  and  hurried  out  of  the  room  as  though  to 
avoid  a  painful  discussion.  Lele  felt  very  sorry  for 
Ed  then.  There  were  moments  when  he  would  gladly 
have  "  gone  with  the  best  "  and  turned  his  back  on 
his  low  associates,  but  society  had  its  foot  on  his  neck. 
Like  too  many  boys,  he  had  lost  his  way,  socially. 
Bethany  society  never  dreamed  of  holding  out  a  help- 
ing-hand to  such  as  he.  Alas,  poor  Ed ! 

Syd  now  came  in  from  the  sitting  room,  where  he 
had  been  playing  with  Tude  while  Cora  cleared  away 
the  supper  dishes. 

"  You  look  nice  in  that  thin,  black  dress,  Lele,"  he 


THE  FAIRY  GODMOTHER.  193 

said.     "  Let  me  get  some  of  those  large,  dark-red  roses 
out  by  the  gate  to  complete  your  toilette." 

"  No ;  I  prefer  honeysuckle  blossoms,"  said  Lele. 
"  The  red  roses  are  for  Jennie ;  they  contrast  with  her 
dark  beauty.  For  myself,  I  love  the  sweet  honeysuckle 
best,"  and  she  buried  her  face  in  a  great  cluster  of  the 
fragrant  blossoms. 

"  You  can  wear  anything  and  still  look  —  sweet," 
said  Syd,  trying  the  effect  of  both  roses  and  honey- 
suckles ;  "  but  the  roses  are  much  the  more  '  fetch- 
ing.' " 

"  No  matter.  I'm  not  expecting  to  do  much  in  the 
fetching  line  to-night,"  said  Lele,  easily. 

"  I  wonder  why.  You  haven't  an  ornament  of  any 
description ;  and,  candidly,  I  think  I've  seen  you  dress 
your  hair  more  becomingly." 

"  I  don't  think  any  harm  will  be  done  by  my 
Quaker-like  appearance,"  said  Lele,  who  had  dressed 
with  great  plainness  as  a  foil  to  Jen's  splendid  appear- 
ance. She  wanted  the  unhappy  girl  for  once  to  feel 
that  she  was  not  eclipsed  in  dress. 

"  I  didn't  want  to  go  to  the  party  with  Ward  and 
Jennie,"  Lele  added ;  "  for  I  really  believe  they  would 
get  on  better  without  me." 

"  You  must  know  that  he  only  asked  her  on  your 
account." 

"And  I  don't  care  to  have  him  come  here  on  my 
account.  I  meant  what  I  said  to  you  about  him  Sun- 
day evening,  Syd." 

d3) 


194  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

"  I  don't  hold  you  to  any  such  bargain.  I  really 
wish  you  would  keep  on  the  good  side  of  the  Collinses. 
Lele.  I  can't,  to  save  my  life." 

"  Ward  invited  you  to  his  party,  and  you  ought  to 
have  gone." 

""  If  you  knew  exactly  how  rude  I  was  to  him,  you 
wouldn't  wonder  at  me  for  staying  at  home." 

"  You  were  mad  about  the  cattle,  Charlie  says. 
Suppose  you  come  in  and  apologize." 

"  Nix." 

"Please,  Syd." 

"  Couldn't  possibly  retract." 

"  What  did  you  say,  you  bad  boy  ?  " 

"  Can't  say  exactly.  Just  the  sight  of  him  driving 
over  the  country,  with  Venus  and  Di,  inviting  people 
to  a  party,  while  I  was  driving  cattle,  made  me  furious. 
I  know  I  acted  like  a  fool.  But  if  I  were  to  go  to 
the  gallows  for  it,  I  couldn't  and  wouldn't  apologize. 
I  don't  blame  Ward  so  much.  He  tried  to  treat  me 
well,  but  he  doesn't  and  can't  know  the  effect  his  deuced 
gayety  has  on  me." 

.   Lele  thought  of  Maud  St.  Johns,  and  wondered  if 
he  were  still  jealous. 

"  Syd,"  she  asked,  after  a  pause,  "  is  your  rudeness 
to  Ward  yesterday  afternoon  your  only  reason  for 
wishing  to  remain  at  home  to-night?" 

"  No ;  I'm  afraid  Maud  will  be  there,  and  that  Ward 
will  show  her  some  attention.  Keep  him  with  you, 
Lele.  I  may  win  Maud  yet  with  such  a  powerful  rival 
out  of  the  way,"  jestingly. 


THE   FAIRY    GODMOTHER.  195 

Syd  was  fast  getting  over  the  gloom  into  which  his 
interview  with  Keith  and  Maud  had  thrown  him.  He 
could  even  bring  her  name  into  the  conversation,  which 
for  a  few  hours  he  felt  that  he  could  never  do  again. 
After  all,  Syd  was  glad  he  had  taken  the  stroll  past 
Maud's  house  on  that  particular  evening.  Where 
quinine  is  needed,  magnesia  and  sugar  never  have 
proved  efficacious. 

Before  Jennie  came  down  Lele  had  time  to  talk 
over  Syd's  offense  with  young  Collins,  who  answered 
impetuously  at  first,  but  soon  was  laughing  and  pro- 
testing that  it  was  all  right. 

"  It's  just  because  I  don't  understand  Syd  any 
more,"  he  said,  frankly,  "  or  else  I  used  to  impose  on 
him  shamefully.  He  used  to  pet  me  like  a  kitten,  and 
I  thought  I  knew  every  kink  in  his  character.  But  his 
whole  nature  seemed  to  change  as  he  grew  into  man- 
hood; just  as  Jennie's  " — 

The  door  opened  at  this  moment,  and  Jean,  looking 
lovely  in  her  "  borrowed  plumes,"  walked  regally  into 
the  apartment,  her  head  held  as  proudly  as  if  the  lovely 
hat  she  wore  had  been  a  diadem.  Ward  felt  like  rub- 
bing his  eyes. 

"  By  Jove !  "  he  thought,  "  is  that  Jen  McKnight, 
or  some  young  princess  who  has  solicited  the  loan  of 
her  eyes?  The  rest  of  the  personality  is  a  stranger 
to  me." 

He  had  always  thought  her  a  dowdy-looking  girl, 
for  even  in  her  school  days  she  was  never  well  dressed, 
though  her  lack  of  self-consciousness  in  those  happy 


196  THE   MAN   WITH   THE   HOE. 

days  had  shorn  her  commonplace  garments  of  half  their 
ugliness.  Of  late,  Ward  had  considered  her  a  perfectly 
hopeless  "  guy."  But  this  evening  Jennie  McKnight 
looked  as  she  had  never  looked  in  all  her  life,  having 
all  at  once  emerged  into  a  charming  womanhood,  as 
surprising  as  it  was  dazzling.  The  scowls  and  frowns 
and  brooding  discontent  had  disappeared;  to-night, 
freed  from  the  baleful  influence  of  the  crackle-toed 
shoes,  fearful-looking  hat  and  faded  alpaca,  she  looked 
a  different  being.  Now  she  could  smile,  a  rich  color 
glowed  in  her  cheeks,  and  under  the  long,  fringed 
lashes  the  dark  eyes  shone  like  stars. 

"A  regular  Cinderella  transformed,"  thought  Ward. 
"  I  suppose  her  step-sister  is  the  sweet  fairy  who 
wrought  the  miracle.  Poor  Jen !  I  hope  she'll  marry 
a  rich  man,  for  she  never  can  look  well  except  in  some- 
thing handsome.  I  do  wonder  if  that  is  the  reason  for 
her  looking  so  sour  and  sulky  of  late.  That  old  alpaca 
was  enough  to  scare  the  crows.  One  really  couldn't 
feel  comfortable  in  the  vicinity  of  such  a  rig,  and  as 
for  offering  to  take  her  anywhere  in  it,  I  really  hadn't 
the  courage  to  do  it.  By  Jove!  it  would  have  been 
easier  to  sink  the  Merrimac !  " 

The  drive  through  the  delicious  evening  air  was 
a  continuous  pleasure ;  the  view  from  the  bluff  charm- 
ing, and  the  party  a  success.  Everybody,  for  a  won- 
der, treated  Jennie  with  unusual  consideration,  though 
Maud  once  mortified  her  by  praising  her  new  dress 
with  rather  a  knowing  smile. 

Jennie  inwardly  trembled  with  a  fear  that  she  would 


THE   FAIRY   GODMOTHER.  197 

next  ask  who  made  it  and  where  she  bought  it;  how 
much  it  cost  a  yard  and  whether  it  was  all  wool. 
Maud  had  a  habit  of  quizzing  sensitive  people  in  this 
way,  and  hardly  ever  failed  to  draw  out  the  informa- 
tion for  the  public  that  Jennie's  shoes  were  two  sizes 
larger  than  her  own  —  Maud  standing  proudly  on  a 
Number  I.  The  smallest  feet  in  the  neighborhood 
were  Maud's,  as  her  waist  was  the  slenderest,  her 
tongue  the  liveliest,  her  satire  most  dreaded,  her  friend- 
ship most  courted.  But,  fortunately,  Maud  even  was 
lenient  to-night.  Lele  was  not  overwhelmed  with 
attention,  nor  was  Jennie  ignored.  Even  Ward  was 
attentive  to  Jennie,  and  for  once  that  young  lady  had 
what  might  fairly  be  considered  "  a  good  time." 

Late  in  the  evening,  when  Ward  and  Jennie  hap- 
pened to  be  alone  together  for  a  few  moments,  he 
said: 

"  I've  wanted  all  evening  to  tell  you  how  nice  you 
look,  Jinsey ;  but  couldn't  with  Maud  everlastingly  at 
my  elbow."  (He  and  Maud  had  made  up  their  late 
"tiff"  to-night,  thanks  to  Trix's  clever  maneuvering.) 

"  No  wonder  you  noticed  that  I  am  better  dressed 
than  usual,"  said  Jennie,  sensitively.  "  I  have  Lele  to 
thank  for  it,  as  I  guess  you  know,"  she  added. 

"  It's  lovely  of  her  to  let  you  eclipse  her." 

"How?" 

"  You  are  ever  so  much  the  better  dressed.  And 
to-night  you  look  lovely.  You  must  marry  rich,  Jin- 
sey, so  you  can  wear  diamonds  and  costly  satins 
with  sweeping  trains." 


198  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

"  Xonsense!  " 

"  I  dreamed  of  you  last  night  in  a  white  silk  dress 
made  with  a  court  train  and  with  diamonds  flashing 
in  your  hair.  You  were  surrounded  by  admirers,  but 
when  I  came  up  you  turned  your  back  on  all  of  them 
and  talked  only  to  me." 

"  Thanks ! "  with  nervous  laughter.  "  Dreams 
always  go  by  contraries,  though,  don't  they  ?  " 

"  You  mean  you  would  not  have  turned  from  the 
other  fellows  to  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  I  meant  —  I  don't  ever  expect  to  wear 
satin  and  diamonds,  Ward." 

"  Yes,  you  will.  It's  decreed,"  said  Ward,  confi- 
dently. "  You'd  make  an  elegant  widow,  Jinsey. 
There's  Mr.  Markley  —  he'll  drop  off  one  of  these  days 
with  apoplexy  if  he  persists  in  wearing  those  dreadful 
high  collars.  I  understand  that  he  has  sheep  enough 
to  buy  his  widow  a  coronet,  and  that  you  are  his  first 
choice." 

Jean  did  not  reply.  The  young  people  were  leaving 
for  home,  and  the  conversation  interrupted  here,  was 
not  resumed.  But  Jean  was  sorry  she  had  not  set  him 
right  on  the  subject  of  Mr.  Markley. 

That  night,  as  the  two  girls  went  up-stairs,  after 
their  return  from  the  party,  Jennie  again  offered  to 
return  the  costume,  which  she  still  maintained  was  only 
borrowed  "  to  keep  Lele  from  being  put  out  of  counte- 
nance." Lele,  however,  positively  refused  to  listen  to 
such  a  proposition.  But  neither  her  generosity,  nor 
the  sisterly  kindness  and  tact  that  had,  throughout  the 


THE    FAIRY    GODMOTHER.  199 

evening,  done  so  much  to  insure  her  comfort,  was 
powerful  enough  to  exorcise  the  evil  spirit  that  still 
held  possession  of  poor  Jen.  Murmuring  some  broken 
words  of  gratitude,  she  paused  irresolutely  at  her  bed- 
room door,  half  willing  to  ask  Lele  to  come  in  and 
share  her  room  in  peace,  with  no  haunting  fear  of 
ghosts  to  disturb  her  dreams;  but  as  Lele  passed  ort, 
she  did  not  recall  her.  Instead,  she  went  in  and  locked 
the  door.  A  chill  seemed  to  settle  on  her  spirits. 

Cora,  roused  by  the  grating  of  the  key  in  the  lock, 
sat  up  drowsily. 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  Jen,"  she  said.  "  Do  tell  me  who 
was  at  the  party." 

"  Everybody,"  said  Jennie,  ambiguously,  as  she 
took  off  her  hat  and  gloves  before  the  little  cracked 
glass. 

"Was  Sue  Hubbard?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Oh,  Jen !     You're  jokin'." 

"  Not  a  bit.     Sue  was  there  —  in  long  dresses." 

"  I  don't  believe  it !  " 

"And  with  her  hair  done  up  in  the  latest  agony." 

"Done  up"  echoed  Cora,  in  tones  of  dejected 
amazement.  "An'  I'll  bet,"  she  added,  as  though  noth- 
ing else  would  be  incredible,  "  that  she  had  a  beau." 

"  She  had,"  said  Jennie,  but  with  hesitancy. 

"  It  wasn't  Ol  Stuart?" 

"  It  was  nobody  else.  You'd  have  thought  they 
were  engaged." 

Cora  drew  the  sheet  up  over  her  head,  for  there 


2OO  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

were  angry  tears  on  her  cheeks.  Ol  Stuart  had  seemed 
to  like  her  the  best  last  winter  at  school ;  but  now  that 
Sue  was  in  long  dresses  and  had  her  hair  "  done  up," 
Cora  saw  that  she  was  distanced. 

''  They  might  have  invited  me,  too,"  she  thought, 
resentfully ;  "  but,  after  all,  I  couldn't  have  gone  in 
either  one  of  Lele's  short  dresses  if  Sue  was  in  trails." 
She  lay  awake  for  hours  devising  some  plan  to  hitch 
a  "  trail  "  to  the  gray  cashmere.  Jen,  too,  lay  awake 
until  morning,  feeling  truly  miserable.  Neither  spoke 
to  the  other  again. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
REAL  AND  IMAGINARY  HAUNTS. 

Maud  St.  John  and  Trixie  Collins  put  their  pretty 
heads  together  and  made  a  party.  The  young  people 
of  the  neighborhood  were  invited  to  play  tennis  at 
Maud's  home. 

"  How  many  of  those  Fairfaxes  have  we  got  to 
expect?"  asked  Trixie,  with  a  weary  air;  "the  whole 
tribe  make  me  tired.  I  wish,  with  papa,  that  they 
were  in  Texas  and  we  had  their  farm.  Syd  was  over 
the  other  day  trying  to  get  the  note  extended  another 
year,  but  papa  won't  extend  it,  though  he  just  put 
him  off  a  while  on  some  pretext.  He  says  he  wants 
to  be  sure  of  the  interest  money,  for  he  expects  to  get 
the  whole  farm  for  the  face  of  the  note,  at  sheriff's 
sale." 

"  Wouldn't  I  have  feathered  my  nest  if  I  had  taken 
Syd?"  laughed  Maud,  softly.  "Oh,  Trix,  did  you 
hear  about  our  adventure  Sunday  evening  ?  " 

"  Not  a  word.  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  at  the  cro- 
quet party?  " 

"  I  wanted  to  tell  you  when  we  were  alone,  and 
I've  made  Keith  promise  not  to  tell.  I  want  to  see 
what  Syd  would  make  of  it." 

"  Make  of  what?  "  Miss  Trixie's  penciled  eyebrows 

(201) 


2O2  THE    MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

took  on  a  slight  frown.     "  What  could  he  make  of  it  ?  " 

"  It  was  the  most  absurd  thing !  "  laughed  Maud. 
"  Keith  and  I  were  out  driving  until  dark  Sunday  eve- 
ning, and  as  we  were  coming  up  the  hill  beyond  our 
house,  something  like  a  great  dog  or  bear  rolled  and 
tumbled  down  the  bank  right  against  our  buggy 
wheels,  frightening  Keith's  horse  nearly  into  a  stam- 
pede. It  did  upset  the  buggy  and  both  of  us  were 
thrown  out.  It  was  all  Keith  could  do  to  prevent  it 
from  running  away.  He  was  hurt,  too,  and  I  was 
knocked  silly  with  fright.  What  do  you  suppose  the 
thing  was  that  caused  the  trouble,  and  might  have  been 
the  means  of  killing  both  of  us?  Why,  Syd  McKnight, 
to  be  sure.  He  had  come  over  to  call,  I  think,  and 
seeing  by  the  appearance  of  the  house  that  I  was  gone, 
had  walked  on  expressly  to  give  us  a  fright." 

"  Maud,  I  really  think  you  are  mistaken.  I  never 
heard  of  Syd  doing  such  a  spiteful  thing.  He  wouldn't 
be  capable  of  it." 

"  But  let  me  tell  you  what  he  did  that  confirms  my 
suspicions.  When  we  asked  him  to  lead  or  drive  the 
fractious  horse  up-hill,  as  Keith  was  hurt,  he  flew  all 
to  pieces  and  declared  he  wouldn't  do  a  thing  for  us ; 
said  we  wouldn't  have  been  upset  if  Keith  had  had 
the  lines,  and  all  such  stuff,  showing  that  he  is  still 
abominally  jealous." 

"  He  had  grounds,  no  doubt." 

"  Trixie,  he  did  not.  But  I  don't  want  his  ill-will. 
I  must  somehow  contrive  to  have  him  come  to  my 
party.  He  must  accompany  his  step-sister." 


REAL  AND    IMAGINARY   HAUNTS.  203 

"  Ward  will  be  certain  to  be  her  escort,"  said  Trix, 
with  a  disturbed  air.  "  He  chatters  about  her  until 
I  am  sick  of  the  subject." 

"  That  is  just  it,  you  see.  He  likes  her."  Maud 
made  an  impressive  pause. 

"  He  likes  you  far  better  if  we  could  keep  this  Fair- 
fax girl  out  of  his  sight.  I  might  somehow  induce 
him  to  bring  Jen,  though,  if  Lele  had  promised  first  to 
accompany  Syd." 

"  Jen  will  do,  I  guess.  She  would  give  her  eyes 
any  day  to  be  with  Ward." 

"  Didn't  Jinks  look  pretty  the  other  night  ?  "  Trix 
remarked,  almost  involuntarily. 

"  She  did  look  rather  nice.  Good  thing,  for  we 
never  could  get  Ward  to  accompany  her  in  her  old 

rig-" 

Maud  wrote  Syd  a  dear  little  note,  perfumed  and 
delicate  and  full  of  subtle  flattery,  conveyed  in  a  few 
friendly  sentences.  She  was  sorry  she  had  offended 
him  Sunday  evening,  and  wanted  to  apologize  for 
insulting  him  by  speaking  as  she  did.  She  wanted 
him  to  come  to  her  party,  so  she  could  talk  it  over, 
etc.  She  would  expect  him  to  bring  Lele  and  Jen 
without  fail. 

She  and  Kitty  called  on  Lele  that  afternoon,  and 
Maud  succeeded  in  making  Lele  believe  that  Jen's 
whole  evening  would  be  spoiled  if  she  had  to  go  with 
any  one  but  Ward. 

"  I  thought  Mr.  Collins  was  one  of  your  admirers," 
said  Lele. 


2O4  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

< 

"  One  of  my  particular  friends,  that  is  all,"  Maud 

replied. 

******* 

Syd  had  been  driving  hogs  out  of  the  wheat-field, 
and  was  hot  with  rage  and  dripping  with  perspiration 
when  one  of  the  Grimes  boys  appeared  with  Maud's 
note. 

Syd  turned  faint  and  sick  when  he  saw  the  envelope, 
for  he  thought  it  was  a  notice  that  the  mortgage  was 
to  be  foreclosed.  But  the  blood  rushed  back  into  his 
cheeks  again  when  he  caught  sight  of  Maud's  writing. 
He  almost  snatched  it  from  the  boy's  hand. 

"  It  don't  need  no  answer,  she  said,"  observed  the 
boy,  and  went  off,  looking  back  and  grinning  over  his 
shoulder,  while  Syd  leaned  against  a  wheat  shock  and 
tore  open  the  little  missive.  He  felt  dizzy  somehow, 
and  the  lines  swam  zigzag  before  his  eyes. 

Once  he  would  have  devoured  Maud's  note  as  a 
famished  man  swallows  food,  reading  it  again  and 
again  that  not  a  morsel  of  its  tantalizing  sweetness 
might  escape  him !  But  now  visions  of  the  real  Maud, 
as  she  had  appeared  last  Sunday  evening,  swam  before 
the  note  and  made  her  seem  more  crooked  than  the 
dancing  lines.  Had  he  not  seen  enough  of  her  co- 
quetry? He  crumpled  up  the  note  and  strode  across 
the  fields  toward  home,  the  light  all  gone  from  his  face 
again.  It  angered  even  while  it  hurt  him  to  think 
Maud  would  not  leave  him  in  peace ;  but  must  drag 
him  back  to  make  a  tool  of  him  in  some  less  obvious, 


AND    IMAGINARY    HAUNTS.  2O5 

but  not  less  useful  manner  than  driving  home 'a  dan- 
gerous horse. 

Just  before  supper  he  came  into  the  sitting  room, 
where  Lele  was  sewing,  and  she  saw  at  a  glance  that 
something  was  "wrong. 

"  Lele,  I  wish  there  were  no  such  things  in  creation 
as  parties,"  he  burst  out,  throwing  himself  with  an 
angry,  impatient  air  into  a  large  rocker  opposite. 

"Why,  Syd  ?  "  Her  tone,  her  glance,  her  very  atti- 
tude of  sweet  repose  partially  tranquillized  him. 

"  We  are  never  invited  to  one  that  we  don't  have 
a  fuss  of  some  kind  over  it.  Jen  and  I  have  quarreled 
over  this  one,  and  she  is  crying  so  she  won't  come  to 
supper.  It  was  my  fault,  entirely,  this  time,"  he  added, 
despondently.  "  I'm  more  sorry  than  I  can  say." 

"  She  will  soon  get  over  it,"  said  Lele,  tranquilly. 
It  occurred  to  her  that  a  few  tears  might  soften  Jennie's 
stony  heart. 

"  No,  she  won't.  Crying  is  a  serious  business  with 
Jen.  You  wrill  have  to  take  her  place  at  the  table  and 
pretend  she  is  sick.  Father  wouldn't  excuse  her  at 
all  if  he  knew  she  was  only  mad.  He  is  very  firm 
in  discipline,  though  he  might  as  well  not  be  for  all 
the  good  it  does." 

"  I'll  take  her  place,"  said  Lele,  folding  her  sewing 
neatly  and  putting  it  away.  "  Was  Jennie  coaxing  you 
to  go  to  the  party  against  your  wishes  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no ;  quite  the  contrary.  She  thinks  I  would 
be  better  off  at  home." 

"  Too  bad,  when  Miss  St.  John  is  so  anxious  to 


206  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

have  you  accompany  me,  so  Mr.  ColHns  can  bring 
Jen." 

"  Indeed !  "  Syd  raised  his  eyebrows  and  gave  Lele 
an  odd  glance.  It  was  now  perfectly  plain  that  Maud 
was  scheming  to  keep*  Ward  and  Lele  apart.  He  was 
silent  a  moment,  chafing  with  resentment  against  the 
world  in  general  and  Maud  in  particular.  Then  in  a 
revulsion  of  feeling  he  resolved  to  accompany  Lele. 

"  Would  you  mind  going  with  me  ? "  he  asked 
simply. 

"  Mind  ?  Why,  I  should  like  it,"  said  Lele.  "  You 
ought  to  go,  Syd." 

"  But  if  you  go  with  me,  you  will  have  to  walk," 
he  answered,  with  a  mortified  consciousness  of  his 
poverty.  All  the  young  men  on  Bethany  Ridge  had 
buggies  except  himself.  "  It  isn't  very  far  across  the 
field,  but  to  avoid  the  wet  grass  we  should  have  to 
walk  clear  around  the  road.  You  wouldn't  enjoy 
that?" 

Lele  blushed  vividly,  and  for  a  moment  her  sisterly 
frankness  deserted  her.  Syd  noted  her  hesitation,  but 
misunderstood  its  cause,  and  his  face  clouded  as  he 
said: 

"  No,  Lele,  I  can't  go  at  all.  Maud  will  find  some 
other  escort  for  you.  I  couldn't  think  of  having  you 
walk  away  over  there." 

"But,  Syd  —  I  will  —  I'd  rather  go  with  you," 
stammered  Lele.  "  Stop,  Syd,"  as  he  was  going,  "  I 
don't  mind  walking  —  with  you !  " 

"  Yes,  you  do ;  and  I  can't  go  anyhow.     You  can 


REAI,   AND    IMAGINARY    HAUNTS.  2O7 

find  another  escort  —  one  who  is  well  enough  off  to 
possess  a  buggy.     I'm  not !  " 

Maud  stopped  on  her  return  from  issuing  the  invi- 
tations to  see  what  had  been  decided  as  to  Lele's  escort, 
and  finding  that  Syd  was  not  going,  she  promised  to 
send  her  brother  after  Lele.  Then  Ward  was  coaxed 
to  "take  pity  on  poor  Jen." 

The  evening  proved  propitious  for  the  party,  and 
Lele  enjoyed  herself  very  much,  though  her  thoughts 
kept  wandering  back  to  Syd,  who  was  probably  sitting 
alone  on  the  veranda  meditating  on  his  poverty-stricken, 
buggyless  condition. 

Ward  was  the  life  and  soul  of  the  party,  and  kept 
everybody  in  a  whirl  of  gayety  during  the  early  part 
of  the  evening.  Later  he  developed  a  propensity  for 
tete-a-tete  nonsense  that  considerably  disturbed  Maud. 
With  all  her  clever  maneuvering,  she  could  not  con- 
stantly keep  him  in  sight. 

Presently  Lele  and  Ward  found  themselves  the  only 
occupants  of  the  sitting-room,  the  others  having  all 
been  attracted  to  the  parlor  by  Maud's  rendering  of  a 
song,  consisting  for  the  most  part  of  deafening  shrieks 
and  trills  in  not  very  close  imitation  of  some  famous 
singer  she  had  heard  while  "  off  at  school." 

"  What  a  relief  to  have  a  wall  between  us  and.  the 
prima  donna,"  said  Ward,  taking  out  his  handkerchief 
to  affect  being  melted  to  tears  by  the  musk.  With 
it  came  a  letter  that  fell  on  the  floor  with  the  address 
uppermost. 


2O8  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

"My  letter!  "  exclaimed  Lele,  involuntarily  snatch- 
ing-it  up. 

It  was  her  application  for  the  school  which  Ward 
had  forgotten  to  mail !  And  by  this  time  the  teachers 
were  all  employed ! 

"  Oh,  Miss  Fairfax,  how  could  I  have  been  so  care- 
less as  to  forget  to  post  your  letters?"  Ward  looked 
really  distressed.  "  I  hope  they  weren't  important." 

"  Yes,  they  were,  rather."  Lele  had  lost  all  her 
beautiful  color,  but  she  tried  to  conceal  her  disappoint- 
ment. 

"  I'll  see  that  they  go  in  the  morning  mail,"  pleaded 
Ward.  "  It  won't  delay  them  but  a  few  days." 

"  No,  I'll  never  send  them  now  I  should  not  have 
delayed  writing  them  so  long.  After  all  it  would  prob- 
ably have  made  no  difference  if  they  had  been  sent." 
And  she  changed  the  subject. 

Ward  soon  began  criticising  some  of  Maud's  paint- 
ings. 

"  These  cows  are  truly  chic,"  he  said.  "  When  the 
picture  was  new,  Mrs.  Hubbard,  who  is  very  near- 
sighted, told  Maud  one  day  that  she  admired  her 
November  scene  very  much.  '  But  why/  asked  Maud, 
'  do  you  call  it  a  November  scene  ?'  '  Because,'  said 
Mrs.  Hubbard,  innocently,  '  of  the  fodder  shocks  £nd 
pumpkins.'  '  Fodder  shocks  and  pumpkins !'  says 
Maud ;  '  that's  my  shepherd  dogs  driving  home  the 
cows !' ':  Ward  laughed  over  this  so  immoderately  that 
his  mirth  was  infectious.  It  was  simply  impossible  to 
avoid  helping  him  a  tiny  bit  in  his  fun-making,  he 


REAL   AND    IMAGINARY    HAUNTS.  2CX) 

enjoyed  it  so  thoroughly.  In  the  midst  of  it  all  Maud 
herself  appeared  on  the  scene,  and  Ward's  ridicule  in- 
stantly changed  to  fulsome  flattery.  When  Maud  left 
them,  Lele,  tired  of  his  nonsense,  said  reproachfully: 

"How  could  you  praise  her  falsely?" 

"  Oh,"  he  replied,  lightly,  "  Maud  lives  on  flattery. 
It  doesn't  pay  to  be  sincere  with  every  one." 

"  Doesn't  it  ?"  said  Lele,  stiffly. 

"A  fellow  can't  always  be  in  dead  earnest,  Miss 
Fairfax." 

"  One  can  always  be  sincere." 

"  You  can,  because  you  have  a  charming  knack  of 
flattering  without  telling  positive  lies.  Very  few  people 
are  so  gifted.  But  when  I'm  in  earnest,  I'm  as  truthful 
as  G.  Washington  himself." 

"  The  trouble  is  to  know  when  you  are  in  earnest," 
said  Lele,  with  a  smile. 

"  I'm  ahvays  in  earnest  when  I'm  talking  with  you," 
said  Ward,  struggling  to  appear  grave,  but  bubbling 
into  laughter.  He  was-  absolutely  overflowing  with 
high  spirits  to-night.  Never  had  he  looked  so  attract- 
ive or  his  mischief  appeared  more  excusable.  He  was 
a  very  boy,  the  happiest  alive.  As  her  brother,  Lele 
could  have  loved  him. 

"  Had  I  a  heart  for  falsehood  formed,  I  ne'er  could 
injure  thee!"  Lele  had  just  quoted  derisively,  and  Ward 
was  leaning  over  her  shoulder,  fanning  her,  and  doing 
his  laughing  best  to  convince  her  that  he  ivas  sincere, 
when  the  tete-a-tete  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance 
of  a  group  of  girls,  including  Trix  and  Maud.  The 

(14) 


210  THE   MAN   WITH   THE   HOE. 

scene  —  his  attitude  and  expression,  Lele's  arch,  smil- 
ing, listening  face  —  would  have  made  up  a  charming 
picture  had  Maud  been  disinterested  enough  to  enjoy 
it.  As  it  was,  she  felt  baffled  and  angry,  sorry  she  had 
made  the  party,  since  it  had  turned  to  Lele's  advantage 
instead  of  hers,  as  she  had  anticipated,  and  glad  when 
the  evening  was  ove/. 

Syd  did  not  spend  his  evening  on  the  veranda,  as 
Lele  supposed,  but  by  his  bedroom  window,  where  he 
sat  hour  after  hour,  with  his  arms  folded  on  the  sill, 
looking  moodily  out  toward  St.  John's. 

At  last  he  heard  the  girls  come  home,  and  the  sound 
of  retreating  buggy  wheels  on  the  pike.  Jean  peeped 
into  the  room  after  she  came  up-stairs,  and  seeing  her 
brother  leaning  on  the  casement  with  only  the  starlight 
for  company,  she  came  forward  to  chide  him,  as  she 
often  did,  for  sitting  in  a  draught  late  into  the  night. 
He  did  not  appear  to  hear  what  she  was  saying,  but 
began  as  though  she  had  not  spoken: 

"  Come  here,  Jean.  I  ddn't  care  to  hear  about  the 
party,  but  I  may  as  well  tell  you  right  now  that  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  to  ask  Lele  to  marry  me." 

"  Stuff !"  said  Jennie,  shortly. 

"  You  don't  think  she  would  have  me,  perhaps  ?" 

"  It  would  be  a  mean  imposition,"  said  Jennie, 
slowly.  "  Lele  is  far  too  good  for  any  of  us,  Syd." 

"  Why  don't  you  treat  her  better,  then  ?" 

"I  —  can't."  The  two  words  seemed  fairly 
wrenched  from  the  lips  of  the  stubborn  girl.  "  If  the 
house  were  afire,  I'd  die  if  it  was  necessarv  to  let  her 


REAL   AND    IMAGINARY    HAUNTS.  211 

get  away  safe.     But  I  can't  forget  how  I've  felt  toward 

her  all  these  years,  and  until  then  I  —  won't  pretend  to 

.possess  an  affection  that  I  do  not  feel.     And  I  don't 

see  how  you  can  think  of  asking  her  to  marry  you." 

"  I  tell  you  I  am  driven  to  the  wall.     Her  money 
would  make  me  just  what  I  must  be  if  I  ever  amount 
to  anything  —  master  of  this  farm,  and  a  man  among 
men  on  Bethany  Ridge." 
•    "  You  might  do  as  well  somewhere  else." 

"  Hampered  as  I  am,  I  never  can  do  well,  unless  I 
can  get  enough  money  somehow  to  give  me  a  start 
up-hill.  Jennie,  I  never  will  spend  my  days  as  I've 
been  doing,  humiliated  and  powerless.  And  neither, 
if  I  can  help  it,  will  I  run  away.  I  mean  to  make  my 
fortune  here,  and  force  the  people  who  have  despised 
me  in  my  poverty  to  respect  me  for  my  wealth.  I  have 
but  one  ambition  now :  to  be  the  richest  man  on  Bethany 
Ridge." 

"  You're  going  the  wrong  way  to  be  the  happiest 
man,  Syd." 

"Happy!  Do  I  deserve  domestic  happiness?  No, 
nor  I  don't  expect  it.  But  I  must  have  power.  And 
money  is  the  only  thing  that  will  ever  give  me  that." 

"  You  would  be  no  worse  perhaps  than  other  men," 
mused  Jean. 

"  Worse !  Ah,  Jinsey,  that  is  what  hurts.  All  these 
years  I  have  tried  to  be  better  than  the  average  —  tried 
harder  than  anybody,  in  the  face  of  temptations  of 
which  you  know  nothing,  to  build  up  a  good  character, 
thinking  that  power  could  exist  in  that  alone.  And  yet 


212  THE    MAX    WITH    THE    HOE. 

my  influence  is  nothing  compared  with  that  of  the 
meanest  rich  man  in  the  community.  It  never  will  be 
anything  while  I  am  the  penniless  wretch  I  am.  Aa 
man  is  only  gauged  in  this  world  by  what  he  is  worth 
in  money,  and  that  is  all  I  mean  to  live  for  after  this." 

"  Oh,  Syd !"  The  girl's  voice  was  full  of  pained 
disapproval. 

"  Go  to  bed,  Jenkins,  and  don't  talk  to  me,"  Syd 
replied,  in  a  hard  voice.  "  I've  told  you  now  what  I'.m 
going  to  do  and  why,  but  I  don't  want  it  ever  referred 
to  in  the  remotest  way,  whether  I  am  successful  or 
unsuccessful.  Mind  that." 

She  went  out,  and  he  heard  her  cross  the  hall ;  then 
her  door  closed,  and  the  echo  of  her  footsteps  died 
away.  All  was  now  still  in  the  house  save  a  spider 
ticking  in  the  corner  like  a  busy  watch.  The  clock 
struck  twelve,  and  still  he  sat  in  the  same  position,  with 
his  chin  on  his  folded  arms,  his  eyes  on  the  cold,  bright 
stars.  The  wind  veered,  and  came  straight  in  his  face 
like  a  cold  breath ;  he  was  hardly  conscious  of  it. 

A  very  frenzy  of  longing  to  rise  and  walk  shoulder 
to  shoulder  with  other  progressive  men  had  seized  him. 
The  discouraged  farmer  he  had  been,  plodding  on  year 
after  year  with  a  very  insecure  shelter  over  his  head, 
patched  clothes,  and  a  horizon  no  wider  than  the  circle 
of  his  own  cobbled-up,  rotting  rail  fences  must  cease 
to  exist.  He  had  been  a  good,  conscientious  fellow, 
but  nobody  appreciated  him.  No  wonder.  He  had 
thought  himself  a  very  hero  for  his  self-sacrifice.  He 
had  been  only  a  commonplace  fool! 


AND    IMAGINARY    HAUNTS. 


Suddenly  a  scream  rang  through  the  silent  house. 
It  came  from  Lele's  room,  and  Syd,  who  had  rtot  yet 
retired,  was  instantly  in  the  hall,  his  heart  filled  with 
a  nameless  fear.  As  he  reached  her  door,  it  flew  open, 
and  Lele,  dressed  as  at  the  party,  with  the  faded  flowers 
still  in  her  hair,  fell  almost  fainting  into  his  arms. 
Syd,  glancing  in  through  the  open  door,  saw  that  the 
curtains  were  shaken  as  if  by  a  wind. 

"  My  dear  girl,  what  ails  you  ?"  he  asked.  "  You 
haven't  been  dreaming?" 

"  No,  I  hadn't  retired,"  said  Lele,  recovering  a  little. 
"  I  was  too  miserable  to  sleep,  and  while  I  was  think- 
ing it  over  "  — 

"  What  had  made  my  precious  girl  miserable  ?"  Syd 
asked,  involuntarily. 

"Ward  had  forgotten  to  mail  my  letters,"  Lele 
replied,  with  a  deep  sigh.  "  While  I  was  thinking 
what  to  do  next,  now  my  plans  for  Ed  had  failed,  I 
looked  up,  and  saw  —  something  at  the  window.  I 
don't  know  what." 

Syd,  through  the  open  door  from  which  a  light 
streamed,  had  caught  sight  of  something,  he  didn't 
know  what,  either.  The  window  curtains  near  the 
door  were  parted  by  two  long,  hairy  hands.  A  face 
appeared  between  the  drapery  that  one  did  not  care  to 
glance  at  a  second  time.  It  was  a  relief  to  see  the 
curtains  settle  back  in  their  places,  and  the  thing,  what- 
ever it  was,  disappear. 

"  My  God  !     Is  that  the  devil  ?"  thought  Syd. 

"Oh,  Syd!  what,  what  is  it?"  gasped  the  terrified 
girl. 


214  THE   MAN   WITH   THE   HOE. 

"  I  don't  know,  my  darling.  Is  it  not  enough  that 
you  are  safe  with  me?" 

When  there  is  a  very  strong  and  yet  gentle  man 
standing  between  you  and  danger,  it  is  foolish  to  be 
afraid,  and  Lele's  fears  subsided. 

"Thank,  God,  you  are  safe!"  he  reiterated,  in  an 
agitated  voice,  and  he  held  her  in  a  closer  embrace,  as 
if  fearing  that  she  might  yet  become  the  victim  of  some 
supernatural  spell. 

The  whole  family  in  various  stages  of  dishabille 
now  came  running  into  the  hall,  Jennie  with  a  lamp 
in  her  hand,  and  with  Cora  and  Tude  weeping  at  her 
side.  Ed  rushed  by  with  a  revolver,  Clem  and  Charlie 
at  his  heels,  Syd  having  explained  that  a  face  had  been 
seen  at  the  window. 

"  I'll  bet  it  was  the  suicide's  ghost,"  whimpered 
Tude,  in  tones  of  horror.  "  Ed  says  he  still  —  walks !" 

"  It  was  the  ghost,  sure,"  sobbed  Cora.  "  I  don't 
care  if  the  Collinses  do  take  this  place.  It's  haunted. 
Boo-hoo !" 

"  Cora,  be  quiet,"  commanded  Syd.  "  Lele  will  tell 
you  just  what  she  saw." 

His  tone  was  kind.  There  were  cadences  of  ten- 
derness in  it  that  Lele  had  never  heard  before.  She 
felt  soothed  by  it,  but  it  was  some  time  before  she 
could  relate  what  she  had  seen.  It  was  a  hideous  face, 
that  was  all  she  could  tell. 

"A  burglar,  no  doubt ;  some  tramp,  probably,"  sug- 
gested Syd. 

"  It  was  nothing  human,  I  am  sure,"  sighed  Lele. 


REAL   AND    IMAGINARY    HAUNTS.  215 

Ed's  revolver  was  now  heard  in  repeated  explosions, 
and  he  came  back  presently  to  explain  that  the  fellow 
had  escaped  by  jumping  off  the  roof  of  the  veranda, 
but  that  he  believed  he  could  catch  him  yet.  Down- 
stairs he  flew,  with  Clem  and  Charlie  at  his  heels  as 
before,  and  there  was  a  tremendous  racket  of  doors 
slamming,  and  a  chorus  of  shrieks  from  the  girls  to 
be  careful  and  not  kill  each  other,  or  run  up  on  him 
and  get  shot. 

"  Jen,  Lele  must  not  be  allowed  to  sleep  in  that 
room  again ;  she's  nervous,"  said  Syd. 

"  I  assure  you  it  was  not  a  case  of  nerves,"  declared 
Lele. 

"  Oh,  let  her  sleep  in  our  room,"  cried  Cora  and 
Tude,  in  a  breath.  "  There's  plenty  of  room." 

"  Jennie  doesn't  want  me,"  said  Lele,  sadly. 

"  Yes,  I  do.  I  want  you.  Oh,  Lele,  I  am  sorry 
I've  been  so  cruel  to  you  when  you've  been  so  good. 
Forgive  me,  Lele,"  cried  the  unhappy  but  penitent  girl, 
sinking  down  at  Lele's  feet,  convulsed  with  sobs.  The 
whole  group  were  startled,  impulsive  and  contradictory 
as  Jennie  was  known  to  be,  at  the  intensity  of  feeling 
she  displayed. 

"  Don't,  Jennie,  dear.  It's  all  right,"  said  Lele, 
taking  the  girl  into  a  loving  embrace. 

"You  never  can  forgive  me,  I  know  ;  -I  don't  deserve 
it,"  sobbed  Jennie,  abandoned  to  remorse. 

"  I  do  forgive  you  freely,"  said  Lele,  kissing  her, 
and  a  smile  shone  through  her  tears.  "  I  think,  after 
all,  my  fright  has  done  some  good,"  she  said,  brightly. 


2l6  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

"  It  has  made  us  all  more  sensible  of  the  ties  of  kindred, 
especially  Jennie  and  myself.  •  We  shall  never  again 
forget  that  we  are  sisters,  shall  we?" 

"  Xever  again,"  said  the  girl,  solemnly.  She  kept 
her  word.  From  that  hour  Lele  had  no  truer,  more 
devoted  friend  than  Jennie  McKnight. 

Syd,  as  the  four  girls  disappeared  within  Jennie's 
bedroom,  turned  and  offered  Ed  his  hand.  He  had 
seen  the  latter  draw  the  back  of  his  rough  hand  across 
his  eyes. 

"We'll  be  better  friends,  too,  Ed,  won't  we?"  he 
asked,  huskily. 

Ed  only  said,  "  Well,"  but  he  took  Syd's  proffered 
hand. 

"You  didn't  find  the  burglar?"  Syd  asked. 

"  No,  but  I  saw  him  jump  off  the  veranda  roof. 
Syd,  I  could  swear  he  went  off  on  all  fours.  He  looked 
in  the  dim  light  like  the  very  devil." 

Syd  made  no  reply,  but  he  went  into  all  the  vacant 
rooms  and  fastened  the  windows  down.  He  thought  of 
"  Mimi  "  and  of  the  murders  in  the  "  Rue  Morgue," 
and  shuddered.  While  he  was  planning  to  rob  Lele 
of  her  poor  little  fortune,  she  might  have  perished. 

Long  after  three  of  the  four  girls  had  grown  calm 
enough  to  drift  into  the  land  of  dreams  that  night, 
the  fourth  lay'  with  her  hands  clasped  over  her  eyes 
in  dismayed  wakefulness. 

"  If  I  haven't  fallen  in  love  with  Syd,  after  all !" 
she  thought.  "And  poor  Aunt  Roxy's  money.  Oh, 


REAL  AND    IMAGINARY    HAUNTS. 

dear !     I  wish  she  had  willed  every  penny  of  it  to  Ed." 

****** 

Syd  returned  to  his  room,  but  not  to  sleep.  Per- 
plexing, contradictory  visions  haunted  him  until  the 
dawn  came  to  warn  him  that  it  was  time  to  begin 
another  day  of  unremuncrative  toil.  What  was  he 
living  for,  anyhow? 

He  left  the  house  at  daybreak  and  went  out  to  the 
orchard,  where  under  the  bending  apple  boughs  he 
walked  up  and  down  the  wagon  track,  beside  whose 
ruts  cockle-burs  were  beginning  to  form  their  seeds, 
reminding  him  of  the  near  approach  of  autumn.  The 
sun  was  still  below  the  horizon,  and  dew  lay  heavy  on 
blade  and  leaf.  When  the  sun  came  up  there  were 
countless  wheels  shining  like  silver  in  the  meadow,  the 
work  of  busy  spiders  while  he  had  been  weaving  his 
dreams,  evanescent  as  their  filmy  webs.  He  brushed 
one  aside  with  his  foot  as  he  emerged  from  the  orchard, 
and  wondered  if  the  heart  of  the  little  weaver  was  as 
much  depressed  by  the  ruin  he  had  wrought  as  human 
hearts  are  when  their  plans  are  swept  aside  by  the 
ruthless  hand  of  Fate. 

He  sat  dejectedly  on  the  top  of  the  rail  fence,  won- 
dering why  there  seemed  to  be  no  honorable  chance  in 
this  uneven  world  for  him  to  make  a  living.  Never 
again,  after  the  revelation  of  what  a  blessing  the  love 
of  a  woman  like  Lele  could  be  to  a  self-respecting  man, 
could  he  entertain  a  thought  of  getting  a  start  on  her 
money. 


2l8  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

How  these  words,  which  he  had  read  somewhere 
while  he  was  plotting  to  get  possession  of  her  little  for- 
tune for  his  own  selfish  ends,  mocked  him  now : 

"  There  is  a  supreme  moment  in  the  life  of  every 
man ;  a  time  when  he  may  grasp  the  opportunity  of  a 
lifetime  and  rise  into  a  successful,  prosperous,  useful, 
happy  manhood.  But  the  opportunity  slighted  is  lost 
forever." 

Probably  he  had  lost  his  opportunity  of  a  lifetime, 
who  knows?  Some  lives  are  hampered  almost  beyond 
one's  power  of  apprehension ;  Syd's  was. 

Some  men  in  moods  no  more  hopeless  than  his  have 
been  known  to  saunter  from  the  rail  fence  to  the  barn — 
it  is  not  far  —  pick  up  a  halter,  and  instead  of  using  it 
to  lead  one  of  the  horses  to  water,  employ  it  for  a  very 
different  purpose.  When,  a  few  hours  later,  their  dead 
bodies  have  been  cut  down,  people  have  wondered  how 
the  poor  fellows  got  up  the  courage  to  kill  themselves. 
They  forget  that  it  sometimes  requires  far  truer  courage 
to  live  than  to  die,  and  leave  some  heart-broken  woman 
to  solve  problems  of  life  that  have  proved  too  difficult 
for  a  man.  Only  the  coward  and  the  deranged  slip 
away  in  this  fashion.  Of  the  latter,  God  knows  there 
are  too  many,  owing  largely  to  false  ideas  of  what  con- 
stitutes true  success ;  the  already  crowded  ranks  of  the 
former  I  trust  the  reader  will  never  join. 

On  his  way  back  from  the  barn,  after  feeding  the 
horses,  Syd  found  Jennie  picking  up  early  apples  for 
breakfast. 

She  raised  her  eyebrows   inquiringly  and   smiled, 


REAL   AND    IMAGINARY    HAUNTS.  2IQ 

which  he  perfectly  well  knew  meant,  "  Hello,  Syd. 
Let  me  congratulate  you." 

"  I  am  not  going  to  try  to  do  what  I  said."  Syd 
looked  away  unsmilingly,  and  she  saw  that  he  was  very 
pale.  "  I  despise  myself  for  knowing  that  I  ever,  for 
a  moment,  considered  a  plan  so  ignoble." 

"  He  has  fallen  in  love  with  Lele,"  thought  Jennie. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
"A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  HOUSE." 

Lele  went  clown  to  breakfast  too  light  in  heart  to 
be  disturbed  by  even  the  black -birds,  which  that  morn- 
ing made  the  very  air  quiver  with  their  vibrant  notes. 
Old  Heldt  and  his  cur  were  seen  going  down  the  lane 
with  Clem's  yellow  dog  barking  after  them,  and  a 
neighbor's  donkey  was  leaning  over  the  fence  busily 
trimming  the  damask  rose  bush  by  the  gate.  Still 
Lele's  faith  in  the  "  deep-hearted  country "  was  re- 
viving; she  even  let  herself  meditate  a  little  on  the 
before-dreaded  possibility  of  being  a  farmer's  wife  who 
does  her  own  work,  or  about  eighteen  hours  a  day  of 
it,  as  Jennie  was  doing. 

"  There  must  be  desperate  love  on  both  sides, 
though,  before  I  could  take  up  such  a  cross  as  that," 
she  reflected. 

She  was  no  longer  disappointed  about  the  school, 
and  though  Ward's  forgetfulness  had  destroyed  her 
plans  for  the  winter,  she  felt  content  and  hopeful.  The 
present  just  now  was  sufficient. 

They  were  all  very  merry  over  the  despoiled  larder, 
some  thief  having  stolen  from  the  cellar  most  of  the 
next  day's  provisions,  but  no  one  seemed  in  the  least 
ill  humored  because  there  was  nothing  scarcely  for 
breakfast.  It  was  the  first  really  pleasant  meal  she  had 

(220) 


A   DAUGHTER   OF    Till;    HOUSE.  221 

known  since  she  came  home;  even  Mr.  Fairfax  joked 
and  laughed.  But  Lele  was  conscious  of  a  keen  feeling 
of  disappointment  when  Syd  went  to  his  work  without 
making  any  effort  at  a  friendly  tete-a-tete. 

It  was  not  until  after  dinner  that  she  had  a  chance 
for  more  than  a  passing  word  with  him.  They  had  all 
been  attributing  the  empty  larder  to  "  Lele's  tramp  " 
at  dinner,  and  when,  a  little  later,  she  chanced  to  meet 
Syd  on  the  veranda,  she  said  in  confidence : 

"  I  do  not  think  my  tramp  was  a  man.  But  if  the 
rest  choose  to  believe  so,  they  may." 

Syd  was  silent. 

"  In  fact,  I  know  that  it  was  not  a  man,"  she  added. 

"  I  think  myself  that  it  was  a  gorilla  which  had  per- 
haps been  stolen  from  some  show.  It  is  possible  his 
master  was  in  the  cellar  while  he  was  at  your  win- 
dow," Syd  replied.  (It  turned  out  that  he  was  right.) 
"  Do  you  know,  Lele,  I  never  can  quite  forgive  Jen  for 
letting  you  sleep  in  that  room  alone?" 

"  It's  all  over  now,"  laughed  Lele.  "  I  don't  sup- 
pose she  ever  dreamed  of  a  gorilla  coming  at  midnight 
to  look  through  my  window." 

Her  face  clouded  over  as  she  added :  "  You  know 
my  plans  for  next  winter,  Syd?  I  sent  my  letter  of 
application  to  the  postofHce  with  Ward  Collins,  and  he 
forgot  to  mail  it.  Now  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  It 
is  too  late,  I  suppose,  to  apply  for  a  school  here  any- 
where. I  have  lost  the  chance  I  depended  upon  unless 
a  vacancy  should  occur,  which  is  very  unlikely." 

"  It  pains  me  to  hear  you   mention   the   subject. 


222  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

Your  aunt  left  you  well  provided  for,  and  you  have  no 
right  to  burden  yourself  with  the  support  of  any  one. 
You  ought  not  to  be  here,  Lele,  where  there  is  so  large 
a  demand  on  your  sympathy.  It  would  be  far  better 
if  you  could  return  at  once  to  your  guardian's  home." 

"  But,  Syd,  it  is  my  duty  to  look  after  Ed.  And  I 
couldn't  take  him  into  Mr.  Carpenter's  family,  nor  any- 
where, unless  I  am  prepared  to  meet  our  expenses." 

"  There  is  no  way  here  for  you  to  meet  his  expenses. 
Perhaps  your  guardian  might  be  able  to  suggest  some- 
thing. But  it  clearly  won't  do  for  you  to  remain  here 
until  September,  as  your  father  evidently  wishes." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  don't  want  me,"  said  Lele,  sensi- 
tively. 

"  It  isn't  that.  But  —  it  would  be  better  for  you  if 
you  could  go." 

"  I  am  not  considering  myself,  Syd." 

"Somebody  must  consider  you.  It  would  be  unwise 
to  remain  here,  an  involuntary  exile  from  all  that  should 
make  life  a  delight  to  you." 

"  There  are  other  things  better  worth  living  for 
than  ease  and  pleasure.  God  must  have  some  work 
for  me  here." 

They  were  alone  together  on  the  veranda  walking 
;ip  and  down.  Her  companion  was  silent  for  many 
minutes. 

"  It  is  folly  for  any  woman  to  begin  a  life  of  need- 
less self-sacrifice,"  Syd  presently  resumed.  "  I  do  not 
see  anything  that  you  could  gain  by  remaining  here. 
It  is  not  a  thing  to  be  desired  to  become  one  of  an 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   THE    HOUSE.  223 

unlucky  family.  I  prefer  to  think  of  you  as  fortunate 
and  happy,  though  far  away.  It  is  right  to  send  you 
away,  even  though  inhospitable.  Harsh  as  it  sounds, 
I  really  wish  you  to  go." 

"  Then  I  will  go."  She  turned  away  hurt  and 
angry.  Could  this  be  the  lover-like  Syd  of  last  night  ? 

"And  if  I  do  go,  Syd  McKnight,  you  must  know 
that  we  shall  most  likely  never  meet  again." 

"  I  think  it  hardly  probable  that  we  shall  ever  meet 
again.  It  would  be  better  so,  perhaps." 

"  Better  so  ?  Syd  McKnight,  what  ails  you  ?  I 
thought  you  were  to  be  a  life-long  friend." 

"  Platonic  friendships  are  all  moonshine,  Lele." 

A  swift,  light  footstep  sounded  on  the  pavement 
and  a  gay  voice  called : 

"  Say,  people,  may  I  be  admitted  to  the  promenade, 
or  is  three  always  a  crowd?" 

It  was  Ward  Collins,  looking  provokingly  jolly,  as 
usual. 

"  By  no  means,"  said  Lele,  giving  him  her  hand 
with  a  gracious  smile.  "  You  are  particularly  wel- 
come, for  we  were  on  the  verge  of  a  quarrel." 

"  Not  with  Syd  ?"  exclaimed  Ward,  involuntarily. 
"  Then  I  assure  you  you  need  expect  no  reconciliation. 
The  son  of  Alchanamook  never  —  forgives." 

"  I  deny  that,  sir,"  retorted  Syd,  holding  out  his 
hand. 

"Oh,  our  friendship  is  to  be  resumed,  is  it?" 

"  Is  it  not  enough  to  square  old  accounts  in  the 
matter  of  grievances?" 


224  THE    MAX    WITH    THE    HOE. 

"  Xot  if  the  books  are  to  be  immediately  reopened," 
replied  Ward,  warmly.  "  McKnight  is  a  good  hater, 
Miss  Fairfax.  And  I  myself  a  good  provocator.  I 
wonder  how  he  ever  bore  with  me  so  long." 

"  I  am  no  longer  a  fit  subject  for  friendship,"  Syd 
replied,  sadly.  "  Indeed,  I  am  not,  Ward." 

"  He  has  been  trying  to  convince  me  also,''  observed 
Lele.  "  It  seems  for  some  reason  my  step-brother  is 
prepared  to  spend  the  rest  of  his  days  without  that 
'sweetener  of  life  and  solder  of  society' — friendship." 

"  For  my  part,  I  could  not  live  without  it,"  cried 
Ward. 

" '  Rare  as  is  true  love,  true  friendship  is  still 
rarer,'  "  said  Syd,  laconically.  "  I  believe  in  neither." 

"What  is  life  without  happiness?"  Lele  asked, 
ranging  herself  on  Ward's  side.  "And  happiness 
depends  chiefly  upon  one's  friends." 

"  Happiness  depends  chiefly  upon  one's  worldly 
status,"  retorted  Syd,  involuntarily  reverting  to  his 
thoughts  of  the  previous  night. 

"  You're  mistaken,  Syd,  It's  a  question  of  temper- 
ament," said  Ward.  "  I  could  contrive  somehow  to 
have  a  good  time  if  I  hadn't  a  cent  in  my  pocket." 

"  Wait  till  you  try  playing  the  role  of  '  the  money- 
less man,'  "  Syd  replied.  "  Your  good  times  will  take 
on  a  different  complexion  then." 

"  I  can  remember  when  your  views  were  different, 
Syd." 

"  Time  and  circumstances  strip  a  fellow  of  a  good 
manv  illusions." 


A  DAUGHTER  OF   THE    HOUSE.  225 

Clem  at  that  moment  came  running  up  the  veranda 
steps.  "Dock's  wound  up  in  his  rope  likened  to  choke," 
he  shouted. 

****** 

"  Lele's  packin'  her  trunk,"  announced  Cora  after 
supper.  "  Just  when  we  are  all  gettin'  to  like  her  so 
well,  too!  And  we  have  so  few  friends.  I'd  rather 
see  the  sheriff  come  than  see  her  go/'  she  added,  burst- 
ing into  tears. 

"  Why,  Code !"  Syd  tried  to  speak  sternly,  but  his 
voice  shook.  He  quitted  the  room  and  ran  hastily 
up-stairs.  On  Lele's  door  he  gave  not  a  "  potential  " 
but  a  deprecatory  tap.  Lele  opened  it,  and  he  saw  that 
the  room  was  strewn  with  garments  ready  for  packing. 
The  girl  appeared  to  have  been  crying. 

"Really  going?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  Syd." 

"  Lele,  I  won't  send  you  away,  but  don't  you  think 
seriously  that  it  would  be  for  your  happiness  to  go?" 

"  No,  Syd,  I  do  not."  The  sweet  red  lips  were 
tremulous. 

"  Then  you  are  not  to  go." 

"  I  shall  be  intruding  if  I  stay." 

"  Intruding !  I  deserve  this  for  my  seeming  rude- 
ness. What  I  dread  for  you  is  the  unhappiness,  the 
discomfort  of  being  here  at  this  time.  Remember, 
child,  that  we  may  have  things  to  bear  that  can't  be 
endured  with  smiling  faces.  We  shall  not  be  able  to 
entertain  you  as  " — 

"  Entertain !     I  shall  remain,  if  at  all,  as  a  daughter 


226  THE  MAN   WITH  THE   HOE. 

of  the  house,  not  as  a  guest.  I  am  not  too  weak  to 
share  burdens  with  the  rest.  Am  I  not  one  of  you 
now?" 

"  You  are  one  of  us,  Lele.  But,  oh !  the  lack  of 
worldly  wisdom  you  display  in  staying  here,  unless 
—  Well  —  it  may  be  you  have  chosen  for  your  hap- 
piness after  all."  He  thought  of  Ward  with  a  jealous 
pang  as  he  went  down-stairs. 

An  organ  agent  was  trying  to  persuade  Jennie  to 
let  him  place  an  instrument  in  the  house  when  Syd 
reached  the  hall. 

"  It's  perfectly  useless !  "  she  told  him,  though  the 
longing  for  music,  with  her,  was  all  but  intolerable. 

"  That's  what  they  all  say,"  replied  the  agent, 
briskly.  "  I  reckon  it  won't  crack  no  bones,  will  it," 
he  added  to  Syd,  "  if  I  roll  this  here  music  box  into 
your  parlor  for  a  month  or  so?  Then  if  you  don't 
want  it,  I'll  take  it  away  without  so  much  as  say  in' 
'  Hail  Columbia ! '  " 

"  It  won't  crack  any  bones,"  said  Syd ;  "  but  it  will 
be  a  bootless  errand  for  you,  my  good  fellow." 

"That's  all  right,"  said  the  agent,  "I'll  take  all 
resks  cheerful  ez  a  man  takes  his  mother-in-law's 
departure." 

And,  feeling  confident  that  Lele  would  buy  it,  he 
left  the  organ  on  trial  for  a  month.  After  this  the 
days  fairly  flew,  for  Jennie,  who  had  picked  up  some 
knowledge  of  instrumental  music,  found  in  the  instru- 
ment such  sweet  solace  as  Saul  found  in  the  harp  of 
David.  She  sang  to  Lele's  accompaniments,  too,  and 


A  DAUGHTER  OI?   THE   HOUSE.  227 

in  turn  Lele  took  a  hand  in  the  housework  that  the 
tasks  might  sooner  be  completed.  At  the  conclusion 
of  the  week  even  Jennie  would  not  consent  to  Lele's 
departure.  Mr.  Fairfax  declared  that  Lele  should  cer- 
tainly remain  a  month ;  the  children  demanded  that  she 
should  stay  always,  and  even  Syd  offered  no  further 
advice  as  to  the  advisability  of  her  going.  She  was 
one  of  the  family  now  in  heart  and  soul.  Even  the 
live  stock  were  made  to  offer  her,  in  their  dumb  way, 
the  freedom  of  the  farm. 

One  morning  Lele  .was  called  out  into  the  lane  to 
see  what  Charlie  called  "  the  dearest  little  cow  that 
ever  walked  on  four  legs." 

There  stood  Syd  with  his  arm  resting  on  the  neck 
of  a  beautiful  Jersey  heifer.  He  was  smiling,  his 
eyes  luminous  with  that  pride  which  every  farmer  takes 
in  well-groomed  stock.  It  was  many  a  day  before  she 
saw  that  light  in  his  eyes  again. 

"  Isn't  she  a  beauty  ?"  he  asked. 

"A  perfect  darling!  "  cried  Lele.  "  The  very  pret- 
tiest cow  I've  seen  since  I've  been  in  Pennsylvania.  Is 
she  a  new  acquisition  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  We  raised  her.  She's  been  in  the  far 
pasture  ever  since  you  came.  But  since  you  are  really 
to  be  one  of  us,  I  want  you  to  know  the  pet  and  play- 
thing of  the  whole  establishment.  So  I  will  give  you 
an  introduction  to  the  Lady  Rose." 

"  I  wish  I  could  paint  her  picture,"  said  Lele,  pat- 
ting the  glossy  neck  of  Lady  Rose. 

"  I  wish  you  could,  for  I  don't  think  there  is  a 


228  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

more  perfect  animal  in  the  State.  She's  about  the  only 
thing  of  value  that  I  own.  I  wouldn't  take  a  hun- 
dred dollars  for  her,  bad  as  I  need  money.  In  fact, 
I'd  pawn  my  hat  and  boots  before  I'd  give  up  Rose. 
She's  part  of  the  family." 

"  Old  Si  wants  her,"  said  Clem. 

"  Yes,  he  sees  her  good  points.  He  offered  me 
forty  dollars  for  her  this  morning,  and  that  shows  that 
he  considers  her  worth  sixty." 

Jennie  and  all  the  children  gathered  around,  and 
Lady  Rose  received  quite  an  ovation,  which  she 
acknowledged  by  licking  salt  from  their  hands,  and 
looking  from  one  to  another  with  her  soft,  kind  eyes 
as  if  in  greeting.  City-bred  as  she  was,  Lele  found 
their  affection  for  the  little  Jersey  quite  infectious. 
Yet  there  was  something  pathetic  about  this  tenderness 
shown  to  a  dumb  brute.  And  when  she  saw  Syd  lead- 
ing his  little  pet  down  the  lane  by  one  horn  she  felt 
vaguely  sorry  for  him.  Poor  Syd !  to  have  worked  so 
hard  all  these  years,  and  now  to  possess  but  this  one  bit 
of  property.  It  was  not  much  of  a  start  for  Syd,  ambi- 
tious as  he  was.  But,  like  the  farmer's  boy,  who 
started  to  college  with  only  a  cow  for  capital,  and  grad- 
ually attained  fame  in  the  educational  world,  might  not 
Syd's  cow  lay  the  foundation  for  his  fortune,  as  a 
fanner?  Lele  hoped  so.  She  could  not  bear  to  con- 
template the  possibility  of  anything  happening  to  Rose. 

"  Rose  is  a  beaut  now  to  what  she  was  when  I 
first  saw  her,"  said  Charlie,  watching  the  retreating 
forms  of  Syd  and  his  pet -with  kindling  eyes.  "  'Mem- 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE   HOUSE. 


ber,  Jen,  when  we  looked  out  that  awful  cold  fifth  of 
January,  and  saw  Syd  carry  in'  a  little  scrawny  calf 
in  his  arms  to  the  house  to  keep  it  from  freezin'.  I 
wouldn't  have  given  that  for  her  chances  then?"  he 
added,  snapping  his  fingers. 

"  Father  wouldn't  either,  or  he'd  never  have  sold 
her  to  Syd  for  fifty  cents,"  Clem  added.  "  Lucky 
Syd  paid  for  her,  or  pap  would  have  traded  her  off 
long  ago." 

Syd's  face  wore  a  troubled  look  when  he  came  to 
dinner  that  day. 

"  Rose  is  sick,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  know  what  ails 
her,  but  I  do  believe  she's  going  to  die." 

Jennie's  face  blanched.  She  said  nothing,  but  Lele 
observed  that  she  ate  no  dinner.  The  meal  was  hur- 
ried through  almost  in  silence,  and  immediately  after- 
ward the  whole  family,  except  Mr.  Fairfax,  who  had 
a  visitor  to  entertain,  went  down  to  the  pasture,  where 
the  beautiful  little  Jersey  lay  sick.  Al  kinds  of  medical 
aid  were  summoned,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  When 
Lele  went  out  next  day  to  meet  Syd  in  the  cold  dawn 
of  a  cloudy  morning  (he  had  camped  in  the  pasture 
and  kept  vigil  with  his  little  favorite)  he  looked  like 
a  man  bereaved  of  a  friend.  Her  heart  cried  out  with 
sympathy,  but  her  lips  could  not  form  a  syllable. 

"Rose  is  dead." 

vSyd  uttered  the  words  slowly.  He  looked  haggard 
and  hollow-eyed.  He  felt  as  a  man  feels  when  he  has 
lost  at  one  blow  his  last  piece  of  property  and  some- 
thing he  had  loved.  Lele  burst  into  tears.  She  hnd 


23O  THE   MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

so  longed  for  him  to  escape  this  trial.  It  was  pitiable 
to  possess  so  little  that  a  loss  like  this  could  so  affect  a 
strong  young  fellow  like  Syd. 

"  It's  no  use  making  a  fuss  over  a  cow,"  Syd  said, 
presently.  "  Most  people  wouldn't  care  a  great  deal 
for  a  thing  like  this,  but  —  it  takes  the  heart  all  out 
of  me,  Lele." 

"  It's  no  wonder,"  said  Lele,  in  tears.  "  I  know 
just  how  you  feel.  Think  of  dragging  off  that  beau- 
tiful little  creature  and  dumping  her  into  a  hollow,  as 
I  saw  Mr.  Heldt  do  one  of  his  cows." 

"  I  couldn't  do  that.  She  died  some  time  after 
midnight,  and  I  dug  a  hole  right  there  and  buried  her. 
Ed  helped  me.  There's  nothing  half  so  hard  for  me 
to  do  as  to  hitch  up  a  sled  and  drag  off  the  body  of 
an  animal." 

He  swept  his  shirt  sleeve  over  his  eyes.  "  You'd 
think  me  a  fool,  Lele,  if  you  knew  how  many  times 
I've  tramped  to  that  far  pasture  just  to  see  if  Rose  was 
safe.  I've  gone  there  sometimes  after  dark  because 
I  imagined  something  had  happened  to  her.  She  was 
the  only  thing  in  the  world  that  I  could  call  my  own." 

"  I  never  was  so  sorry  for  anything,"  sobbed  Lele. 
"  Oh,  Syd,  how  can  you  go  on  with  this  hateful  farm- 
ing? There's  more  heartbreak  in  it  than  I  ever  imag- 
ined." 

"  I  don't  suppose  it  has  any  more  drawbacks  than 
other  occupations,"  Syd  replied,  patiently.  "  It  is,  of 
course,  foolish  to  get  attached  to  dumb  brutes  as  I 
did  to  Rose,  but  somehow  a  farmer  can't  help  it.  All 


A  DAUGHTER   Ol>   THIS   HOUSE.  231 

kinds  of  live  stock  are  so  dependent  upon  you,  that 
you  can't  help  feeling  a  sort  of  tenderness  for  them; 
and  it  makes  losing  them  in  this  way  doubly  hard. 
Rose's  death  will  cast  a  gloom  over  our  entire  house- 
hold. We  all  know  it  seems  a  silly  piece  of  sentiment, 
and  yet  we  can't  help  feeling  bad.  One  reason  I  buried 
her  so  soon  was  that  I  don't  want  the  children  down  in 
the  pasture  crying  over  her.  Tell  Jennie,  will  you, 
Lele  ?  I'd  rather  not." 

That  day  was  one  to  be  remembered.  Lele  won- 
dered, when  she  laid  her  head  on  her  pillow  that  night, 
if  her  death  would  ever  cause  so  many  tears  to  flow 
as  had  the  death  of  the  gentle  little  Jersey  cow.  Even 
Charlie  showed  little  relish  for  his  supper. 

"  I  feel  so  fightin'  mad,  Lele,"  he  said,  "  to  think 
we  can't  have  anything  nice  like  other  people  without 
losin'  it,  that  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  No  wonder 
Jinks  feels  stormy  in  her  old  alpaca.  I  feel  like  a 
cyclone,  to-night,  myself.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen 
old  Si  stickin'  his  nose  over  the  fence  this  afternoon. 
'  Hi,  Syd,  better  took  that  forty  dollars  I  offered  you 
fer  yer  cow.  Forty  dollars  is  a  long  sight  better'n 
a  dead  cow.'  If  I  could  turn  to  a  twister,  an'  blow 
Si's  ole  spotted  cows  to  ribbons,  it  would  just  do  me 
good." 

Several  weeks  passed  so  rapidly  that  Lele  had 
scarcely  a  moment  to  think  and  plan  as  she  had 
expected.  Though  she  had  frequent  talks  with  her 
father  about  Ed,  she  was  as  far  as  ever  from  forming 


232  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

any  plan  that  could  benefit  Ed  or  any  member  of  the 
family.  She  had,  however,  given  up  her  trip  west 
with  the  Carpenters,  and  was  undecided  just  how  and 
where  she  was  to  spend  the  winter.  In  that  respect 
the  rest  of  the  family  were,  alas !  as  much  at  sea  as  her- 
self. The  mortgage  might  be  foreclosed  any  day  and 
the  whole  household  broken  up.  All  was  in  a  painful 
state  of  uncertainty  when  you  came  to  think  of  it,  and 
yet  what  with  Ward  calling  so  often  and  bringing  so 
many  of  the  young  people  of  the  Ridge  with  him,  the 
old  house  took  on  an  air  of  liveliness  unknown  to  it 
for  years.  Even  Cora  had  become  a  social  factor,  with 
the  gray  cashmere  and  India  linen  lengthened  becom- 
ingly by  Lele's  deft  fingers,  and  a  new  hat  (made 
for  her,  also  by  Lele,  out  of  old  material),  that  was 
declared,  even  by  such  a  severe  critic  as  Charlie,  to  be 
a  "  duck."  Ol  Stuart  (who  had  suddenly  emerged 
from  jackets  into  a  Prince  Albert  of  fabulous  length) 
vacillated  between  Fairfax  Farm  and  "  The  Cedars,"  as 
Sue  Hubbard  proudly  denominated  her  home. 

"  Sue  does  well  enough  to  go  with  at  a  pinch,"  the 
faithless  Ol  would  tell  Cora  one  evening,  and  the  next 
would  inform  Sue  that  "  Code  was  well  enough  to 
pass  away  the  time  with  when  a  fellow  couldn't  do 
better,"  which  induced  the  girls,  when  they  compared 
confidences,  to  mutually  agree  that  "  Ol  was  a  perfect 
stick  —  don't  you  know  —  but  when  fellows  were  so 
scarce  it  wouldn't  do  to  give  him  the  shake  complete." 

These  young  things  were  too  immature  in  feeling 


A  DAUGHTER   OF   THE   HOUSE;.  233 

to  take  life  and  love  seriously,  and  they  really  got 
quite  a  good  deal  of  pleasure  out  of  the  latter  part  of 
that  memorable  summer.  There  were  older  hearts, 
however,  that  ached  through  it  all,  though  the  ache 
was  masked  under  a  very  calm  exterior. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
AN  UNWILUN'  BARKIS. 

There  was  a  "  festival  "  at  Bethany  Church,  and 
the  band  was  playing.  The  aisles  were  full  of  gay 
promenaders,  and  the  elderly  people  and  "wall  flowers" 
sat  in  the  pews  gossiping,  while  outside,  in  a  maze  of 
Chinese  lanterns,  ice-cream  and  other  refreshments 
were  being  served  from  tables  clustered  around  a  gayly 
decorated  stand. 

Jennie  had  a  table  upon  which  she  waited  with 
rather  a  listless  air.  Maud  and  Trixie  and  most  of  the 
other  girls  had  early  found  substitutes  and  joined  in 
the  promenade  —  an  indecorous,  waltz-like  affair  at 
which  Mrs.  Stuart  and  other  "  pillars "  winked  for 
the  sake  of  worldly  gain.  All  the  young  people  liked 
to  come  to  Bethany  festivals,  since  there  was  a  band 
and  promenading.  They  bought  liberally,  and  the 
church  debt  dwindled.  Mrs.  Stuart,  with  her  cake- 
knife  in  hand,  seemed  resolved  to  cut  it  in  twain. 
Mrs.  Stuart  always  cut  the  cakes.  She  had  a  repu- 
tation for  making  more  slices  and  fewer  crumbs  than 
any  other  lady  in  the  congregation. 

Jen  looked  haughty  and  unapproachable.  No  one 
would  have  supposed  from  her  manner  that  she  cared 
for  the  promenade  or  would  have  thought  it  otherwise 
than  wicked.  She  had  expressed  such  sentiments  in 

(234) 


AX    UNVVILUN     BARKIS.  235, 

the  hearing  of  more  than  one  young  man  and  at  least 
one  elderly  one  —  Mr.  Markley,  a  fat  sheep-raiser  of 
sixty,  who  had  annoyed  her  by  hanging  around  her 
table  all  evening,  "  keeping  trade  away,"  as  Maud  had 
maliciously  whispered.  He  had  little,  pale  eyes  sunk 
like  beads  in  a  mask  of  dough.  His  fat  face  was 
florid,  his  head  bald,  his  nose  broken,  and  his  tuft  of 
chin  whiskers  made  him  look,  as  Charlie  said,  "  like  a 
Billy-goat." 

"Hi,  Miz'  Billy,"  that  incorrigible  youth  would 
whisper  every  time  he  went  by,  his  mouth  stuffed  with 
peanuts. 

Now,  after  a  very  short  promenade  with  a  widow 
not  much  to  his  fancy,  came  this  broken-nosed  and 
bald-pated  admirer  back  like  a  bad  penny.  No  one,  it 
seemed,  had  any  use  for  him.  The  girls  dodged  him 
as  cleverly  as  though  engaged  in  a  game  of  "  blind 
man's  buff."  He  seemed,  however,  determined  to 
make  himself  attractive  to  the  fair  sex.  Had  he  not 
worn  a  stiff  collar  at  the  risk  of  severing  a  jugular 
in  the  vain  hope  of  appearing  youthful?  Attentive  to 
the  ladies  he  would  be  in  spite  of  rebuffs ;  but  to  none 
was  he  so  persistently  devoted  as  to  Jean  McKnight. 
People  who  had  no  great  regard  for  appearances  said 
"  it  would  be  a  good  match  for  Jen." 

"  Miss  Jennie,  you  look  paler  and  paler  every  time 
I  come  around,"  he  said,  on  his  third  round.  "Do 
leave  this  here  stupid  table  a  spell.  All  the  other  gds 
is  gone." 

"  I'm  not  tired,  thank  you,"  said  Jennie,  haughtily ; 


236  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

"  and  I'd  rather  be  here  than  in  that  crowded  church." 

"  'Tis  right  down  pleasant  out  here,"  said  Mr. 
Markley,  seating  himself  on  one  of  her  chairs.  "  Bring 
two  sassers  of  cream,  Jinny,  an'  less  hev  a  snack.'' 

Jen's  eyes  rained  lightning  upon  him,  but  he  was 
too  absorbed  to  notice.  To  be  exact,  his  collar  was 
so  tight  that  he  could  not  have  turned  his  head  the 
fraction  of  an  inch  if  he  had  tried.  He  wondered  if 
there  was  room  inside  his  throat  for  ice-cream  to  go 
down. 

Ward  and  Lele  came  laughingly  down  the  church 
steps  and  seated  themselves  opposite  Mr.  Markley. 
Ward  beckoned  to  Jen  and  whispered  in  her  ear  when 
she  came: 

"  Bring  three  dishes,  Jinsey,  and  promenade  with 
me  afterwards,  won't  you?  Miss  Fairfax  is  going  to 
take  charge  of  your  table." 

Jen  brought  the  three  dishes  and  sat  by  Ward,  not 
even  glancing  at  the  discomfited  widower,  who  swal- 
lowed half  his  cream,  refused  cake,  and  hurried  from 
the  table,  purple  and  panting. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  him  ? "  asked  Ward 
"  He  seems  on  the  verge  of  apoplexy." 

"  I  fear  I  offended  him,"  said  Jennie,  whose  cheeks 
now  were  scarlet.  "  Please  don't  mention  him,  Ward. 
He  has  made  the  whole  evening  hideous  for  me." 

"  Sorry  I  didn't  know  it  sooner,"  Ward  glanced 
twice  at  her  with  kindling  admiration.  Lele  was  con- 
versing with  Trix  and  Morris,  who  had  just  sat  clown. 
"  I  feel  sorry  for  him.  But  it's  a  f?.ct ;  he's  too  old 


AN    UNWIUJN     BARKIS.  237 

for  you,  Jinsey.     '  There  is  no  fooling  with  life  after 
you  are  turned  forty.' ': 

"  It  would  be  all  one  to  me  if  he  were  turned 
eighty." 

"  'Oh,  woman,  in  your  hours  of  ease, 
Uncertain,  coy  and  hard  to  please  ! '  " 

quoted  Ward,  maliciously. 

"  Who  could  be  pleased  with  Mr.  Markley  ?" 

"  The  world,  my  dear  Jinsey,  considers  Mr.  Mark- 
ley  an  attractive  man.  He  has  solid  qualifications." 

"  Probably  that  is  why  he  is  so  heavy,"  retorted 
Jean. 

"  I  never  thought  he  had  mudi  wit,"  Ward  resumed, 
"  but  when  I  heard  that  he  had  selected  you  for  Num- 
ber 2,  in  his  series  of  wives  —  or  is  it  3  ?  —  he  was 
appreciated  in  his  younger  days, —  I  could  hot  deny 
that  his  judgment  was  fine." 

"  Really  ?  "  Jean  glanced  up  a  moment  later  and 
beheld  the  widower's  eyes  gleaming  mournfully  out 
of  the  gloom  beyond  the  row  of  lanterns. 

"  Look  at  his  eyes ! "  whispered  Ward,  "  and  his 
tongue  is  hanging  out.  Jean,  I  tell  you  he's  choking." 

"  Nonsense !  " 

"He  is!  That  collar  of  his  is  two  sizes  too  small. 
I  bid  for  his  epitaph :  '  He  had  been  a  kind  husband, 
was  an  indulgent  father,  and  at  the  time  of  his  demise, 
a  devoted  lover.'  " 

"  How  very  clever  you  are !  "  said  Jean. 

The  three  arose,  and  Lele  began  to  invest  herself 
in  Jennie's  cap  and  apron.  Ward  said: 


238  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

"  You  should  not  make  yourself  so  pretty,  Miss 
Fairfax,  or  you  will  have  all  the  trade  at  your  table 
and  be  overworked.  Worst  of  all,"  he  added,  anx- 
iously, "  you  will  attract  Mr.  Markley." 

"  If  you  should,"  said  Jennie,  relentingly,  "  try  to 
condone  my  offense." 

"  I  will,"  said  Lele,  absently.  She  was  not  think- 
ing of  Mr.  Markley. 

"  Markley  goes  with  this  table,"  said  Ward.  "  It's 
like  buying  a  hoodooed  house  —  the  ghost  goes 
with  it." 

Lele's  cheeks  suddenly  flushed  at  the  mention  of  the 
word  "  ghost."  At  the  same  time  she  caught  sight 
of  Syd  and  Maud  St.  John  sitting  in  a  buggy  on  the 
other  side  of  the  stand.  They  appeared  to  be  talking 
over,  perhaps  making  up,  old  differences.  Lele  had 
been  with  Ward  almost  the  entire  evening,  though 
involuntarily  her  eyes  had  been  busy,  in  search  of  Syd, 
whom  she  had  never  once  seen.  She  knew  he  was 
present,  and  had  been  wondering  where  he  kept  him- 
self. Now  she  knew.  He  had  been  sitting  in  that 
buggy  all  evening  with  Maud! 

Jen  wore  a  thin,  white  dress  and  black  velvet  gir- 
dle, which  Lele  had  contrived  for  her,  and  in  which 
she  looked  well.  The  girl's  face,  like  her  brother's, 
depended  mainly  upon  its  expression  for  its  beauty. 
When  she  passed  Mr.  Markley  on  Ward's  arm,  the 
former  scarcely  recognized  her. 

"  Darned  ef  she  ain't  good  lookin' !  "  he  thought, 
staring  after  her.  "  'Tain't  much  good,  though,  her 


AN    UNWIUJN     BARKIS.  239 

black  eyes  '11  ever  do  me.  She's  sot  ag'in  me ;  that's 
plain  ez  envy.  Wonder  ef  her  step-sister  wouldn't 
make  a  purty  good  step-mother  fer  my  boys.  No  harm 
in  askin'  her.  She  can't  mor'n  say  '  No.'  She's  real 
good-natured-lookin',  an'  they  say  she's  got  money, 
too.  B'lieve  I'll  try  my  luck,  bein'  as  I've  got  on  this 
collar.  The  darned  thing  was  too  much  trouble  to  put 
on  fer  nothin'." 

Lele  was  too  tender-hearted  to  see  any  one  suffer, 
and  when  Mr.  Markley  came  up  she  greeted  him  very 
kindly,  ate  ice-cream  with  him,  and  tried  in  every  way 
to  make  him  forget  Jen's  cruelty.  He  rewarded  her 
by  making  her  a  present  of  a  huge  pound-cake  frosted 
all  over  with  gum-drops — the  largest  one  obtainable 
and  the  most  thickly  becandied.  In  the  face  of  such 
unexpected  generosity,  how  could  Lele  refuse  when  he 
asked  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  home?  It  was  Lele 
who  looked  pale  when  Ward  and  Jennie  returned. 

"  You  don't  say  he's  been  here  ever  since  we  left  ?  " 
asked  Jennie,  with  horror. 

"  Ever  since."     Lele  drew  a  sigh  of  fatigue. 

"  This  table  is  hoodooed,"  declared  Ward,  aside  to 
the  girls.  "  Suppose  we  all  desert  it.  There's  Alice 
Stuart  just  dying  for  some  good  work.  Give  her  a 
chance.  It  may  be  the  means  of  marrying  her  off." 

Alice  took  charge  with  gentle  dignity.  She  was 
never  a  sprightly  girl,  but  to-night  she  was  a  shade 
quieter  than  usual.  Keith  had  not  once  spoken  to 
her. 

"What  ails  Keith  to-night,  Alice?"  Ward  asked. 


240  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

"  When  I  saw  him  a  while  ago  he  looked  like  a  young 
thunder-cloud." 

"  I  didn't  notice,"  said  Alice,  placidly,  and  devoutly 
prayed  forgiveness  for  the  fib.  vShe  brought  a  dish  of 
ice-cream  with  two  spoons  in  it  for  a  gawky  youth  and 
his  ogle-eyed  sweetheart,  which  sent  Ward  off  half 
suffocated  with  suppressed  laughter.  He  ran  head- 
long into  a  group  of  young  people  who  were  discussing 
something  very  earnestly. 

"  I  haven't  known  him  speak  to  her  for  six  months," 
said  one.  "  Thought  they  had  quit  for  good." 

"  Sh !  "  whispered  another,  as  Ward  and  the  girls 
joined  them. 

"  Oh,  it's  a  caucus,  is  it  ? "  said  Ward.  "  Beg 
pardon." 

"  It's  a  caucus,"  said  Ol  Stuart,  "  but  we're  ad- 
journed." 

"  That  means  you  were  discussing  me,"  wailed 
the  irrepressible  Ward.  "  Boo-hoo !  What  have  I 
done?" 

Everybody  laughed,  and  amid  a  chorus  of  protests 
there  was  a  general  movement  toward  the  candy  stand. 

The  band  wound  up  "  Creole  Belles "  with  a 
flourish,  marched  down  the  aisle,  packed  their  instru- 
ments in  the  band  wagon,  and  sat  down  to  their  third 
free  lunch  of  cake  and  ice-cream  in  the  flare  of  the 
torches  before  the  old  stone  church.  Keith  Hubbard 
lurked  in  the  shadows  glowering  at  Syd,  who  still 
talked  with  Maud. 


AN    UNWIUJN     BARKIS.  24! 

Buggies  began  to  roll  away.  Whole  families  bun- 
dled themselves  into  wagons  and  spring-wagons, 
crowding  in  "  Georgie  'millons  "  and  empty  freezers. 
The  cake  auction  began,  and  the  remnant  of  the  crowd 
pressed  open-mouthed  about  the  stand. 

Mr.  Markley  stood  at  the  auctioneer's  elbow  hold- 
ing Lele's  cake.  She  had  rashly  promised  to  ride 
home  in  his  buggy.  Ward  stood  directly  behind  Lek 
and  whispered  in  her  ear  some  request  which  she 
refused  in  pantomime ;  he  bit  his  lip  in  vexation  and 
devoted  himself  to  Jennie. 

Several  frosted  cakes  were  bid  off  at  a  low  figure, 
A  large  cake,  with  a  bouquet  in  the  center,  plentifully 
bestuck  with  candy  hearts  and  red  drops,  was  held  up 
on  a  large  stem  glass  cake  stand.  It  had  a  border  of 
tissue  paper  cut  in  fancy  patterns.  To  top  all,  a  knot 
of  blue  satin  ribbon  adorned  the  stem  of  the  stand.  A 
murmur  of  admiration  greeted  it. 

"  This  cake,"  shouted  the  auctioneer,  "  was  made  by 
Miss  Maud  St.  John.  Boys,  there's  not  a  sweeter  cako 
in  the  whole  collection.  It  cost  seventy  cents.  Do  I 
hear  a  bid  on  this  lovely  cake  ?  " 

"  Eighty  cents !  "  cried  Ward. 

"  Eighty  cents  is  bid.  Who  will  raise  it  ?  Remem- 
ber, it's  for  the  widows  an'  orphans.  Bill  Markley 
over  here  is  the  widow,  and  Fin  the  orphan.  We 
need  it." 

Amid  a  roar  of  laughter  Keith  Hubbard  was  heard 
bidding  defiantly,  "  Ninety  cents." 

(16) 


242  -    THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

"  Ninety  cents  for  the  finest  cake  ever  sold  at  a 
fete,  worth  one  dollar  and  a  quarter.  Ninety-five,  do 
I  hear  it?" 

"  One  dollar,"  shouted  Ol  Stuart,  with  reckless  dis- 
regard to  his  mother's  shaking  head.  The  crowd  at 
this  woke  up  and  fairly  bid  itself  hoarse.  Every  young 
man  in  the  neighborhood  seemed  to  want  Maud's  cake. 
It  was  finally  knocked  off  to  Keith  Hubbard,  who  took 
particular  pains  to  let  Maud  see  that  he  was  the  buyer. 

"  Crackee !  But  I'm  glad  Keith  got  it  instead  of 
me,"  Ward  whispered  to  Jennie.  (He  inherited  his 
father's  fondness  for  good  bargains.)  ''  Maud's  cakes 
are  like  herself  —  all  the  sweetness  is  on  the  surface. 
I  know  'em !  " 

Mr.  Markley  shifted  uneasily  from  one  foot  to  the 
other,  thankful  he  had  bought  Lele's  cake  earlier  in  the 
evening.  With  his  neck  in  such  a  fix  he  felt  that  bid- 
ding would  have  been  dangerous  work.  Besides,  he 
had  still  some  fears  that  Lele  would  give  him  the  slip 
and  go  home  in  Ward's  buggy.  He  wished  a  thunder- 
storm would  come  up  and  scatter  the  crowd.  But  the 
stars  never  shone  clearer. 

"  Lele,  give  him  the  shake,"  whispered  Jennie. 
"  Your  -sympathy  is  carrying  you  too  far." 

"  I  don't  care  if  it  is,"  said  Lele.  She  had  just  seen 
Syd  escort  Maud  to  her  father's  carriage. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  commotion  in  the  back  part 
of  the  crowd.  One  of  Maud's  rejected  suitors,  who 
was  usually  tipsy  at  festivals,  having  failed  to  get  the 
coveted  cake,  had  vowed  vengeance.  As  Keith  passed 


AN    UNVVILrLIN     BARKIS.  243 

him  with  his  hard-won  trophy,  that  fortunate  and  yet 
luckless  (since  Maud  had  ignored  him  all  evening) 
gentleman  received  a  staggering  blow  between  the 
shoulders.  He  turned  and  struck  back.  The  cake 
slipped  from  its  newspaper  wrapping  to  the  ground, 
and  Keith's  assailant  sprang  upon  it  with  both  feet. 

"  If  I  can't  have  Maud's  cake,  no  other  fellow 
shall,"  he  shouted,  and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell 
it  he  had  executed  a  clog  dance  upon  it  with  destructive 
results.  Keith  rushed  furiously  to  the  rescue,  but  too 
late.  All  that  remained  was  a  mass  of  crumbs,  shat- 
tered icing  and  broken  hearts.  Red  drops  strewed  the 
grass  on  every  side  like  drops  of  blood. 

Keith  had  never  made  a  fighting  reputation,  but 
the  experiences  of  the  evening,  culminating  in  such 
unlooked-for  disaster,  had  keyed  him  up  to  attempt 
acts  of  desperation.  He  closed  with  the  destroyer  of 
so  much  sweetness,  and  they  went  down  together, 
crushing  to  atoms  what  was  left  of  th?  cake.  When 
peace  officers  had  separated  them  and  borne  the  unsuc- 
cessful bidder  from  the  field,  Keith,  mortified  as  well 
as  enraged,  was  only  too  glad  to  shake  the  sticky  red 
drops  from  his  hair  and  make  his  escape.  Ward  was 
so  convulsed  with  laughter  that  he  could  offer  but  little 
consolation. 

"  That's  a  bad  one  on  Hubby,"  he  said.  "  I  never 
knew  the  dear  old  man  to  be  so  thoroughly  picked  uh. 
It  was  bad  enough  for  me  to  do." 

Ward  took  Jennie  home,  and  shortly  afterward  Lele 
arrived  with  her  cake  and  a  wilted  bouquet,  principally 


244  THE   MAN   WITH   THE   HOE. 

marigolds,  which  the  widower  had  bidden  off  for  her 
at  an  extravagant  figure. 

"  Poor  child !  "  said  Jennie,  when  the  two  girls  were 
alone  together  in  the  dining-room,  "  you  deserve  a 
crown  for  your  goodness  to  me  to-night.  I'll  never 
leave  him  on  your  hands  again." 

"  Do  you  care  for  him,  Jinsey  ?" 

"  Not  a  straw  !" 

"  I  am  so  glad,  Jennie.  I  thought  at  first  you  had 
broken  his  heart,  he  seemed  so  dejected.  I  did  what 
I  could  to  console  him,  for  I  truly  pity  any  man  who 
is  despised  by  the  woman  he  loves." 

"  Yes,  and  "— 

"  He  invited  me  to  take  the  place  of  Mrs.  Markley, 
No.  i." 

"  Lele !" 

"  He  really  did.  He  as  good  as  admitted  that  he 
preferred  you,  but  as  he  could  not  get  you,  he  would 
take  me." 

"And  was  Barkis  willin'?" 

"  Barkis  was  not.     Barkis  declined  the  honor." 

They  heard  the  front  door  open.  Syd  ran  lightly 
up  the  stairs  and  his  door  closed  with  a  slight  bang. 
He  went  across  to  the  window  and  began  whistling 
softly.  A  bar  or  two  of  "  Creole  Belles  "  was  wafted 
downward. 

Lele  turned  her  face  away  from  the  light. 

"  Maud  has  in  some  way  regained  her  old  power 
over  him,"  she  thought. 


AN    UNWIUJN     BARKIS.  245 

But  Maud,  far  from  having  regained  her  old  power 
over  Syd,  was  at  that  very  moment  saying  peevishly 
to  Kitty: 

"  Such  a  beastly  stupid  evening  as  I've  had,  after 
all !  I  could  not  even  have  the  pleasure  of  getting  any 
fun  out  of  Syd  McKnight,  though  I  did  my  level  best." 

"  Why,  Maud !"  exclaimed  the  guileless  Kitty.  "  I 
thought  Syd  was  all  devotion.  Things  looked  that 
way." 

"  Devotion !"  Maud  echoed,  as  she  began  nervously 
to  twist  her  blond  tresses  up  on  kid  curlers.  "  He  read 
me  such  a  lecture  on  coquetry  as  I  shall  not  soon  forget, 
I  promise  you.  Said  he'd  been  wanting  to  have  a  talk 
with  me  for  ever  so  long.  And  such  a  talk!  It  beat 
all  the  sermons  I  ever  heard." 

"  Did  he  bring  you  around  to  his  view  ?  Or,  rather, 
did  you  succeed  in  making  him  forget  the  interview  on 
the  hill  the  other  Sunday?" 

"  I  should  think  not.  I  see  clearly  that  I've  lost 
my  last  scrap  of  power  over  the  hateful  fellow.  And 
it's  just  too  provoking,  for  there  are  times  when  I 
could  play  him  off  against  the  others  to  pretty  good 
advantage,  poor  as  he  is." 

"  Yes,  the  effect  upon  Keith  and  several  others 
this  evening  was  —  all  that  could  be  desired,"  laughed 
Kitty.  "  But  I  wouldn't  have  wasted  a  whole  evening 
on  old  Syd.  He'll  be  in  the  market  for  some  time  yet." 

"  In  the  market  —  yes.  I  doubt  if  he  ever  marries, 
judging  by  the  way  he  talked  this  evening.  But  after 


246  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

the  way  he  spoke  I  can  never  count  on  him  again. 
Well  —  his  eloquence  rather  fascinated  me,"  she  added, 
with  a  sigh. 

"  He's  sharp  as  a  tack,"  said  Kitty. 

"  Sharp !  He's  the  only  fellow  on  Bethany  Ridge 
endowed  with  brains,"  said  Maud,  walking  about  nerv- 
ously. "  I  half  wish  yet  that  I'd  never  let  him  get 
beyond  my  reach.  But  he's  gone,  now,  past  recall." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
BROTHER  AND  SISTER. 

It  was  the  first  of  August,  and  the  air  seemed  full  of 
fiery  arrows.  The  brown  meadows  shimmered  under 
a  cloudless  sky,  and  cloudless  it  had  been  now  for 
weeks.  The  brooks  were  all  dried  up,  the  ponds  empty, 
and  crops  dying.  It  was  the  most  severe  drought  in 
years. 

Syd  went  about  looking  absorbed  and  absent- 
minded.  He  had  formed  another  plan,  which  was 
slowly  consuming  to  ashes  under  the  influence  of  this 
pitiless  sun.  The  drought  was  so  severe  now  that  he 
could  do  but  little  except  repair  fences,  and  he  was  at 
that  work  this  evening  when  Si  Collins,  with  his  old 
brownish  straw  hat  curled  up  at  the  ears  and  his  cob 
pipe  stuck  between  his  yellow  teeth,  came  up  with  a 
hoe  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Hello,  Syd  !"  jocularly.  "  Got  the  interest  money 
about  all  collected  yet?" 

"About,"  said  Syd,  laconically.  The  very  sight  of 
his  neighbor's  hard,  shrewd  face  made  him  heart  sick. 

"  Not  much  show  for  a  crop  this  year,  especially 
for  late  corn  and  tobacker,"  Collins  went  on  between 
puffs.  "  Mine's  early  and  part  of  it  new  ground.  I'll 
have  a  pretty  fair  crop  if  it  don't  rain;  but  that  old, 

(247) 


248  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

late-set  tobacco  of  yours  won't  be  worth  cuttin'.  How's 
your  potatoes  ?" 

"  Pretty  fair,  but  not  so  good  as  I  expected.  What 
will  you  give  for  them  —  on  the  mortgage  ?" 

"  Nothin' !  They're  sunburnt.  Wouldn't  have  'em 
at  any  price.  You  ought  to  see  mine.  I  dug  'em  an' 
marketed  'em  last  week ;  brought  me  seventy-five  cents 
a  bushel.  The  market  will  be  glutted  before  you  get 
yours  in.  Ought  to  have  dug  'em  a  couple  of  weeks 
ago." 

"  I  haven't  had  time."  Syd  felt  tempted  to  brain 
his  tormentor  with  the  broken  fence-rail  he  had  in  his 
hand.  "  If  I  hadn't  so  much  blamed  fence  fixin'  to  do 
I  should  get  along  faster,"  he  added,  in  an  angry  tone. 

"  You  haven't  a  sound  rail  on  the  place,  have  you  ?" 
squinting  at  the  various  heaps  of  brush  and  rails  that 
did  duty  for  fences.  "  You  ought  to  see  mine.  I've 
got  a  dandy  lot  of  rails  made  a-purpose  to  use  on  — 
well,  the  next  farm  I  buy."  And  filling  his  old  cob 
pipe,  he  blew  a  puff  of  smoke  in  Syd's  face,  as  though 
to  add  injury  to  insult. 

"  You  mean  this  one,  I  suppose."  Syd  was  boiling 
now  with  suppressed  rage. 

"  You  ought  to  be  glad  to  get  it  off  your  hands.  I 
declare,  the  work  you  do  here  is  breaking  you  down 
faster  than  any  young  man  I  know.  You'll  be  white- 
headed  before  you're  forty  at  the  rate  you've  been 
going." 

"A  mortgage  is  a  good  thing  to  sprout  gray  hairs." 
Syd  had  already  found  a  few.  He  wondered  if  they 


BROTHER   AND   SISTER.  249 

were  so  noticeable  as  to  attract  attention.  Attributing 
them  all  to  Si  Collins,  he  half  formed  a  resolution  to 
revenge  himself  upon  his  neighbor  Eugene-Aram  fash- 
ion. He  wondered  how  long  it  would  take  detectives 
to  discover  Si's  pestiferous  body  in  the  dark  recesses 
of  the  thicket  beyond  the  fence. 

Si,  utterly  unconscious  of  his  danger,  socked  his 
hoe  down  on  a  clod  and  waxed  confidential. 

"  Tell  you  what,  Syd,"  he  said,  after  a  few  puffs  at 
his  old  cob  pipe,  "  this  here  implement  that  I've  got 
in  my  hand  ain't  no  bad  pick  to  dig  gold  out  of  a  farm." 

"  It  has  been  for  me,"  said  Syd,  glancing  bitterly  at 
the  hoe. 

"  Yes,  an'  precious  bad  fer  that  ole  step-dad  o' 
yours,  too.  Some  men  never  learn  how  to  get  the 
upper  hand  of  a  hoe.  Now  there's  Ome  Fairfax.  I 
c'n  remember  when  he  rode  in  his  kerridge,  and  I 
hadn't  so  much  ez  a  plug  to  pull  in  a  plough.  But  in 
them  days  I  could  waltz  all  round  Ome  with  a  hoe, 
an'  can  yet,  for  that  matter.  I  never  saw  the  day  when 
Ome  could  hoe  a  row  with  me,  never !  Used  to  be  too 
stuck  up,  an'  now  he  actilly  couldn't  clean  out  a  truck 
patch  if  his  life  depended  on  it.  He  hung  his  hoe  on 
an  apple  tree  to  rust,  but  I  kep'  a  lickin'  in  with  mine 
till  I  hoed  an  independent  fortune  out  of  the  dirt." 

"With  your  father-in-law's  help,"  said  Syd,  drily 

"  Old  Man  Ward  never  really  helped  me  much, 
Syd.  I'd  have  stuck  in  the  mud  shore  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  this  friendly  ole  hoe.  When  I  die,  I'm  a  goin'  to 
leave  directions  to  have  a  hoe  cut  in  my  monument." 


25O  THE   MAN   WITH   THE   HOE. 

"  If  I  were  set  to  carve  the  design,  you'd  get  a 
bunch  of  bristles,"  said  Syd,  sotto  voce. 

"  I've  often  thought,"  Si  went  on  seriously,  "  of 
havin'  a  wheat  shock  cut  in  the  marble,  but  I  believe 
I  like  the  hoe  best.  I've  dug  out  a  pile  o'  tobacker 
money  with  a  hoe  in  my  time,  Syd." 

"  I  wish  I  could  say  as  much." 

"  Tears  like  your  luck  don't  run  that  way.  Tell 
you  what  I'd  do,  Syd,  just  give  up  an'  let  me  foreclose 
in  September.  Branch  off  for  yourself,  boy,  an'  let  the 
ole  man  root,  hog,  or  die.  The  way  things  look  now, 
Ward'll  be  likely  to  give  your  step-sister  a  home  on  the 
ole  place.  If  I  get  it,  I  mean  to  make  it  over  to  Ward, 
give  him  rails  an'  pickets  enough  to  rebuild  the  fences, 
an'  let  him  git  a  livin'  out  of  it  if  he  can.  There's  good 
dirt  here,  if  'twas  farmed  right." 

Syd  would  have  given  much  if  Mr.  Collins  could 
at  that  moment  have  been  transformed  into  a  rattle- 
snake, he  did  so  long  to  have  the  pleasure  of  beating 
the  life  out  of  him. 

"  When  are  they  to  be  married  ?"  he  asked,  as  coolly 
as  though  he  only  wanted  to  know  the  price  of  oats. 
In  fact,  every  nerve  was  unstrung  and  every  drop  of 
blood  tingling.  Fighting  would  have  been  far  more 
to  his  taste  just  then  than  fence  building ;  but  Syd, 
with  all  his  strength  and  temper,  had  never  cared  for 
pugilistic  fame. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  suppose  you  are  better  posted 
about  WTard's  affairs  than  I  am ;  you  used  to  be.  She's 
a  good  lookin'  girl,  an'  will  have  a  tidy  bit  o'  property 


BROTHER  AND   SISTER.  251 

of  her  own,  I  hear,  when  she  marries.  I  wonder  you 
didn't  set  your  cap  for  her  yourself,  Syd.  You  might 
have  bought  in  the  place  with  her  money,  you  know." 

Si  was  treading  on  thin  ice,  but  unconsciously.  He 
blew  another  whiff  of  smoke  into  Syd's  face.  The 
young  man  wondered  where  his  tormentor  got  his 
tobacco.  It  seemed  to  have  been  culled  from  the  worst 
trash  that  Bethany  Ridge  could  raise. 

"Hell  hath  no  odor  like  an  old  cob  pipe,"  he  thought. 
"  That's  one  solace  he'll  have  down  there  —  his  pipe." 

"  You  might  have  made  good  use  of  Lele's  money," 
persisted  Si. 

"  True,  I  might."  Syd's  tone  was  repellant.  He 
could  not  imagine  anything  harder  than  to  control  his 
furiously  rising  temper,  but  he  kept  cool. 

"  Rich  girls  ain't  to  be  picked  off  every  bush,  Syd." 

"  Is  it  easier  to  love  a  rich  girl  than  a  poor  one  ?" 

"  Yes,  siree !  a  darned  sight  easier !  It's  elevatin', 
too.  I  wouldn't  have  my  present  influence  in  the  com- 
munity if  I  had  married  somebody's  hired  girl,  or 
stayed  single  as  you're  doin'." 

"  Judge  Ward  never  forgave  you  for  running  away 
with  his  daughter,  did  he?"  Syd's  tone  was  full  of 
repressed  contempt. 

"  Not  exactly.  But  he  did  a  good  part  by  her,  all 
the  same,  and  left  all  his  money  to  my  children  when 
he  died."  Si  moved  away  a  few  steps,  and  then  looked 
back.  "Oh,  how's  your  shoats  gettin'  along?" 

"  Tolerably  well." 

"Only  tolerable?     You  ought  to  sec  mine.     They 


252  THE   MAN   WITH    THE   HOE. 

are  fine,  I  tell  you.  Make  whackin'  big  hogs  by 
November." 

"  Yes,  I've  seen  them  quite  frequently."  Syd  felt 
that  the  last  feather  had  been  added.  "  They  picked 
up  most  of  their  living  in  our  crops,  and  I  intend  to 
shoot  the  very  next  one  that  sticks  his  nose  through  the 
fence." 

"  Come,  now,  Syd,  keep  cool,"  said  Mr.  Collins,  in 
a  bantering  tone.  "  Remember  whose  part  of  the  fence 
they  get  through." 

"  What  the  dicks  do  I  care  whose  part  of  the  fence 
they  get  through?  I've  been  driven  fairly  mad  with 
your  stock,  and  I'm  going  to  put  a  stop  to  it  if  I  have 
to  make  fertilizer  of  every  confounded  hoof  on  your 
farm." 

"  Better  not.  You'll  have  a  lawsuit  on  your  hands 
if  you  try  it.  Don't  s'pose  I  could  make  anything  off, 
of  you,  though.  '  Sue  a  beggar  an'  git  a  louse,'  you 
know." 

"  Beggar !"  Syd  was  by  this  time  livid  with  rage. 
"  Si  Collins,  if  you  don't  get  off  this  farm,  I'll  kick  you 
off,  if  you  are  an  old  man.  I've  stood  all  I'm  going  to 
from  you.  And,  mind  you,  don't  you  or  a  hoof  of 
yours,  man  or  beast,  cross  the  line  fence  again." 

"All  right.  We'll  stay  away  until  after  the  middle 
of  September,"  said  Si,  pocketing  his  empty  pipe. 
"  Then  I  and  my  stock  will  come  to  stay,  and  you  an' 
yours  will  make  tracks  fer  the  last  time.  I  won't  give 
you  a  day  to  pack,"  and  with  a  parting  oath  he  hurried 
away. 


BROTHER   AND   SISTER.  253 

Syd  stood  still  in  one  of  his  white  rages,  and 
watched  him  out  of  sight.  Then  he  went  on  with  his 
work. 

"  I'll  raise  the  money  to  buy  in  this  farm  if  I  have 
to  hang  for  it !  "  he  thought.  "  I  can  do  it  honestly, 
though,  and  /  will." 

He  worked  for  a  while  with  desperate  energy,  and 
presently  his  mood  changed.  Visions  of  the  wheat 
shock  and  hoe  on  Si's  monument  made  him  shake  with 
silent  laughter. 

Then  a  sickening  fear,  harder  to  bear  than  all  Si's 
taunts,  smote  him.  Suppose,  after  all,  he  could  not 
secure  the  loan  of  a  sum  sufficient  to  buy  in  the  farm? 
Long  years  would  intervene  before  he  would  be  in  a 
position  to  ask  Lele  to  share  his  home.  Try  as  he 
would  he  could  not  but  feel  that  it  would  be  a  mean 
act  to  ask  her  to  share  the  fortune  that  might  never 
come  to  him  at  all. 

Supper  bells  began  to  send  forth  their  summons 
from  the  various  farm-houses.  Syd  went  home  with 
lagging  steps. 

That  morning  he  and  Lele  had  had  a  little  talk 
that  had  raised  his  spirits  somewhat,  but  now  they  were 
lower  than  ever.  He  had  been  for  several  days  more 
than  usually  despondent,  owning  partly  to  the  drought 
that  was  rendering  useless  the  work  of  months. 

"  Syd,"  Lele  had  begun,  "  I  want  a  business  talk 
with  you.  To  be  candid,  I  don't  think  you  are  suc- 
ceeding in  farming,  are  you?" 


254  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

"  I'm  on  the  verge  of  ruin,"  Syd  replied,  desper- 
ately. "  Everybody  knows  it,  too." 

"  I've  seen  ever  since  I've  been  here  how  you've 
been  fretting  over  your  work,  and  it  makes  my  heart 
ache." 

"  What  a  poor  stick  I  must  be  to  flaunt  my  woes 
before  your  eyes  in  such  a  feeble-minded  way,"  said 
Syd,  deeply  mortified. 

"  I  didn't  mean  that  you  had  said  anything  fretful. 
It's  precisely  because  you  are  so  quiet  and  uncomplain- 
ing that  I  feel  so  sorry  for  you." 

"  It  takes  a  weak  kind  of  fellow  to  appreciate  pity," 
said  Syd,  inwardly  writhing.  "  Dispense  with  that, 
please." 

"  It  seems  that  I  can't,  as  you  Pennsylvanians  say, 
get  any  purchase  on  the  subject.  What  I  wish  to  say 
is  this:  You  are  a  born  farmer  if  you  had  a  chance. 
It  isn't  your  fault  nor  the  fault  of  farming  that  you 
don't  succeed.  It  seems  unfilial  to  say  it,  but  we  both 
know  the  fault  is  father's.  His  extravagance  and  mis- 
management have  swallowed  up  one  thing  after  another 
of  the  crops,  stock  and  implements  until  you  have  noth- 
ing to  farm  with,  and  no  heart  for  it.  It  is  no  wonder 
that  debt,  discouragement  and  overwork  have  so  nearly 
ruined  the  peace  of  the  whole  family.  You  know  there 
is  no  hope  of  better  things  until  my  father  ceases  to  be 
master  here." 

"  I  know  it,  and  yet  I  have  shrunk  from  doing  any- 
thing so  ungrateful  as  trying  to  oust  him,"  said  Syd, 
hesitatingly. 


BROTHER   AND   SISTER.  255 

"  I  do  not  think  you  will  long  have  a  choice  in  the 
matter.  The  farm  will  soon  change  hands,  and  if  you 
could  once  get  possession  and  work  it  in  your  own  way, 
I  think  you  would  be  successful  as  a  farmer,  unless 
your  hopes  are  still  for  a  profession." 

"  I  should  prefer  farming,  I  believe.  I  only  turned 
to  something  else  because  I  was  so  hopeless  of  ever 
getting  on  here,  either  financially  or  intellectually.  I 
often  in  those  days  asked  myself  Solomon's  question : 
'  How  can  he  get  wisdom  that  holdeth  the  plow,  and 
that  glorieth  in  the  goad,  that  driveth  oxen  and  is  occu- 
pied in  their  labors  ? '  I  do  not  now  think  that  the 
right  kind  of  farming  necessarily  interferes  with  cul- 
ture, and  since  I  have  served  my  apprenticeship  and 
fitted  myself  for  it,  I  should  like  to  make  it  my  life 
work  if  ever  I  could  be  permitted  to  farm  as  I  think 
it  should  be  done." 

"  I  would  borrow  the  money  if  I  were  you,  and 
buy  in  the  farm.  For  if  it  is  yours,  and  you  have  the 
'  say  so  '  in  everything,  and  give  Jennie  a  share  in 
what  you  make  and  the  children  what  they  really  earn, 
I  know  it  will  be  more  satisfactory  all  around.  I  will 
ask  my  guardian  to  lend  you  enough  money  on  your 
own  note  to  rebuild  the  fences  and  put  them  and  the 
buildings  in  complete  repair.  You  can  then  get  rid 
of  the  present  tenants,  put  in  good  ones,  and  with  hope 
instead  of  despondency,  and  system  instead  of  hap- 
hazard, all  will  go  well.  Father  will  be  well  satisfied 
to  live  on  his  salary  and  be  away  from  here.  Indeed, 
he  seems  to  be  away  chiefly  as  it  is.  I  will  contrive 


256  THE;  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE. 

some  way  yet  to  keep  Ed  with  me  until  he  learns  a 
trade.  By  mutually  helping  each  other  we  shall  be  a 
happy  family." 

"  I  will  think  of  it,"  said  Syd,  thoughtfully.  He 
did  not  tell  her  how  pleased  he  was  to  find  that  her 
views  exactly  accorded  with  his  own ;  he  could  not 
trust  himself  to  enter  into  confidences  that  might  betray 
a  secret,  which,  for  the  present,  he  must  carefully 
guard. 

******* 

When  Syd  came  in  after  his  day's  work  was  done, 
he  found  Lele  sitting  on  the  veranda  alone.  Every- 
thing was  very  still  out  of  doors.  Only  the  crickets 
chirped,  and  in  the  hall  he  heard  the  fine  droning  of 
mosquitoes.  Syd  was  about  to  pass  the  white-clad 
figure  in  the  big  willow  rocker  and  go  up  to  his  room, 
when  she  spoke  in  a  low,  pained  voice: 

"  Syd,  why  do  you  treat  me  so  coldly?  You  never 
notice  me  any  more  unless  I  am  the  first  to  speak. 
What  have  I  done  ?  " 

He  paused,  irresolutely,  as  a  man  must  in  the  face 
of  danger,  and  then  went  back  and  seated  himself  in 
the  vacant  chair  by  her  side.  He  felt  in  no  mood 
for  talking,  and  wished  she  had  not  spoken  to  him. 

"  You  don't  seem  happy  to-night.  Syd,"  Lele 
observed,  wistfully. 

"  Happy  ?  "  his  heart  was  so  wrung  with  depressing 
fears  and  anxieties  that  he  could  have  cried  out  with 
pain. 


BROTHER  AND   SISTER.  257 

"  You've  been  thinking  over  my  plan  ?  "  she  ques- 
tioned. 

"  Yes,"  silence  again.  Syd  was  growing  desperate. 
He  wanted  a  chance  to  show  her  once  for  all  that  his 
distrait  manner  had  its  origin  in  something  else  than 
love-sickness.  She  would  be  more  free  to  choose 
between  him  and  Ward  if  she  was  sure  he  was  not 
"  eating  his  heart  out "  with  jealousy. 

"Lele,"  he  said  at  last,  taking  her  hand,  "  I'm  afraid 
after  all  that  I  seem  the  very  last  to  take  you  into  my 
heart  as  my  own  sister.  I've  often  thought  I  ought 
to  speak  of  it  —  of  how  glad  I  truly  am  that  we  are 
and  must  always  be  bound  by  ties  of  such  close  rela- 
tionship—  ties  that  can  never  be  broken." 

Lele  was  silent. 

"  Will  you  give  me  one  kiss  to  show  that  you  accept 
in  all  his  moods  and  tenses  a  brother  who  may  always 
be  trusted,  but  must  not  often  be  questioned  ?  " 

He  was  so  grave  and  matter-of-fact  that  the  smile 
and  blush  faded  from  Lele's  face.  He  kissed  her 
coldly  as  Jennie  might  have  done  had  she  been  forced 
to  perform  that  distasteful  duty  in  the  time  of  her 
bitterest  animosity.  Lele  awoke  with  a  shock  to  the 
consciousness  that  Syd  never  had,  never  could  love  her. 
Brothers  might,  indeed,  kiss  her  after  that  mechanical 
fashion ;  lovers,  never.  It  was  a  relief  to  both  to  hear 

the  boys  come  trooping  through  the  hall. 

******* 

In  the  gray  of  the  clear  summer  morning,  when 
d7) 


258  THE  MAN   WITH   THE   HOE. 

Jennie  peeped  into  Syd's  room  to  tell  him  it  was  time 
to  feed  the  horses,  she  was  startled  to  find  that  the  bed 
had  not  been  slept  in.  Syd  was  sitting  before  the  open 
window  with  his  head  on  his  arms  in  his  well-known 
attitude  of  dejection. 

"  Why,  Syd,  what  ails  you  ? "  asked  the  startled 
girl.  "  Haven't  you  been  asleep  ?  Are  you  sick  ? 
What  can  be  the  matter  ?  " 

'  "Is  it  morning  ?  "  asked  Syd,  drowsily.  "  I  didn't 
know  it  was  so  late.  Had  the  toothache,"  he  explained, 
"  and  couldn't  sleep  a  wink,"  turning  his  face  away 
from  Jennie's  searching  gaze. 

"  Syd,  you  never  have  the  toothache.  It's  some- 
thing else  ;  something  that  I  don't  know  anything  about. 
Tell  me,  won't  you  ?  I've  heard  so  much  bad  news  " — 
Jen's  voice  shook.  She  looked  prepared  for  anything. 
That  one  of  the  horses  was  dead  she  felt  sure;  there 
was  a  moment  of  harrowing  uncertainty  as  to  -which 
one. 

Syd  turned  toward  \\tr  impatiently. 

"  It  isn't  anything  at  all.  Pray,  save  your  trag- 
edies till  they're  needed.  The  toothache  is  something 
all  flesh  is  heir  to,  I  reckon.  I'm  not  the  first  fellow 
that  has  lost  a  few  hours'  sleep  with  it,  am  I  ?  " 

"  I  know  what  ails  you,"  said  Jennie,  "  but  you'd 
sooner  cut  off  one  of  your  hands  than  talk  with  me 
about  it.  Seems  to  me  I'd  talk  it  over  and  have  it 
off  my  mind." 

"  Running  after  people  to  share  my  mental  burdens 


BROTHER  AND  SISTER.  259 

is  not  in  my  line,  as  you  know,"  Syd  replied.  "  Better 
drop  the  subject,  Jen." 

Jennie  looked  hard  at  the  fair  morning  landscape 
looming  up  out  of  the  night  mist;  then  her  eyes  met 
Syd's,  and  seeing  how  weary  and  hopeless  he  looked, 
a  great  wave  of  pity  and  longing  to  aid  him  swept  over 
her,  and  the  dark,  bright  eyes  grew  luminous  and  soft 
with  tears. 

"  Don't,  don't  mind  it,  Syd,"  she  said,  brokenly. 
"  It's  no  use  to  care  for  anything.  We're  cursed  and 
branded,  and  oughtn't  to  expect  any  peace  or  happiness 
from  any  one  in  this  world.  They  weren't  intended 
for  us." 

"  I  agree  with  you  there,"  cried  Syd,  starting  up. 
"  I  wonder  why  we  are  such  fools  as  to  care.  I  do, 
indeed." 

"  We're  neither  sticks  nor  stones,"  said  Jennie,  sul- 
lenly. "  We  feel  the  same  as  other  people." 

"  We  must  cultivate  endurance,  like  the  Indians," 
said  Syd,  getting  up  and  walking  about  the  room. 
"  Whining  won't  help  matters  any,  that's  certain." 

"  It  wouldn't  do  any  harm  to  let  me  know  what 
kept  you  sitting  by  that  window  all  night,"  said  Jennie. 

"  If  it  were  the  first  night  I've  sat  there  all  night 
when  my  distracting  thoughts  wouldn't  let  me  sleep, 
it  might  seem  more  worth  talking  about,"  said  Syd, 
evasively.  "  There's  one  thing,  Jinsey,  that  I've  de- 
cided on." 

"To  sell?"  asked  Jennie,  with  a  gasp. 

"  No ;  that  old  maids  and  bachelors  are  true  mar- 


260  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

tyrs,  and  ought  every  one  to  have  a  crown  for  what 
they  are  compelled  to  suffer  in  the  flesh,"  with  a  nerv- 
ous laugh. 

"  You've  been  fretting  over  Lele,"  said  Jennie, 
gloomily. 

Syd  at  last  made  his  confession: 

"  I  tried  last  evening  to  convince  Lele  how  utterly 
indifferent  I  was  to  her.  except  as  a  step-brother,  and 
I  think  I  was  successful.  It  cost  me  dear,  I  can  tell 
you." 

"  If  you  are  in  love  with  her,"  said  Jennie,  "  why 
not  be  man  enough  to  say  so  ?  " 

"  Because,"  said  Syd,  ambiguously. 

"  And  what  does  that  mean  ?" 

"  Don't  you  know  ?  Stop  and  think  a  minute  what 
/  have  to  offer  any  woman." 

"  Debt,  discouragement  and  drudgery,"  said  Jennie. 

"  Just  that."  Syd  opened  the  door  — "  Until  I  have 
a  more  munificent  dowry  than  that  to  offer  I'll  never 
speak  of  marriage  to  any  woman." 

"  You  did  to  Maud,"  retorted  Jennie. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Jean.     I.  did  not." 

"  Syd,  I  always  thought  she  refused  you." 

"  No  doubt  she  would  had  I  ever  given  her  a 
chance.  But  facts  are  facts,  and  if  my  worldly  pros- 
pects do  not  improve,  I  propose  to  go  down  to  my 
grave,  be  it  fifty  years  hence,  without  having  once  said, 
'  Will  you  be  mine  ? '  to  any  woman."  He  made  a 
faint  attempt  to  whistle  as  he  went  down-stairs.  It  was 
a  failure. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

AT  THE;  STILE. 
i 

On  a  low  stile  in  the  tall,  neglected  willow  hedge 
that  lay  between  the  far  pasture  and  Si  Collins's  woods, 
Jennie  sat  with  her  chin  in  her  hand,  lost  in  thought. 
She  had  come  to  drive  home  the  cows,  but  still  the 
industrious  beasts  were  busily  cropping  the  short,  sun- 
burnt grass,  their  dappled  sides  burnished  with  the  red 
rays  of  the  setting  sun.  Above  and  behind  her  lay  a 
dense  woods ;  half  the  houses  on  Bethany  Ridge  were 
visible  below.  She  could  even  catch  glimpses  of  the 
far-away  Susquehanna,  lying  like  a  stream  of  liquid 
silver  at  the  base  of  the  green  hills.  The  wind  blew 
steadily  from  the  west  and  tossed  back  the  dark  hair 
from  her  brow.  A  magnificent  sunset  made  the  west 
gorgeous  with  color,  and  never  had  the  landscape,  made 
up  of  wooded  hills,  grassy  vales  and  broad,  cultivated 
fields,  appeared  more  beautiful  than  now,  with  the 
evening  light  upon  it.  But  her  surroundings,  for  once, 
made  no  impression  upon  the  girl's  mind.  She  was 
striving  bravely  to  face  the  problems  of  the  future, 
which  now  seemed  so  dark. 

Jean  possessed  one  talent  that  she  had  an  unutter- 
able longing  to  cultivate  —  a  beautiful  voice.     Music 
had  been  her  one  hobby,  and  a  musical  instrument 
(261) 


262  THE    MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

above  all  things  most  coveted.  Yet  every  other  girl  in 
the  neighborhood  had  a  piano,  and  Jennie  had  none. 
As  a  child,  her  chief  amusement  had  been  to  make  a 
keyboard  out  of  black  and  white-handled  knives  and 
forks  and  play  that  it  was  a  piano.  By  using  this, 
under  Trix's  skillful  teaching,  she  had  learned  to  finger 
and  to  play  chords  in  several  keys.  Mr.  Fairfax  called 
this  childish  folly.  He  had  no  music  in  his  soul,  and 
could  see  no  reason  for  cultivating  an  art  that  at  best 
seemed  to  him  but  a  foolish  waste  of  time.  Jean's 
musical  education  had  not  progressed  very  far  until 
Lele  came.  Its  progress  under  Lele's  tuition  was 
rapid,  phenomenal.  Both  girls  felt  that  here  was  a 
talent  that  should  not  be  tied  up  in  a  napkin. 

"  I  have  never  heard  a  finer  voice  than  yours,"  Lele 
had  said  that  very  day.  "  If  cultivated,  it  would  make 
you  famous." 

Jennie  had  been  told  the  same  thing  by  others,  and 
was  willing  enough  to  believe  it.  But  between  Jean 
McKnight  and  possible  fame  lay  a  great  gulf.  Hu- 
manly speaking,  she  saw  no  chance  of  ever  being  able 
to  cross  it. 

She  rose  and  walked  back  and  forth  beside  the  wav- 
ing willows. 

"  I  must  have  means,"  she  thought.  "  I  must  have 
freedom  to  work  and  plan  for  myself.  I  can  never  pos- 
sess either  while  I  stay  here.  I  am  nothing  but  a 
household  drudge,  and  see  no  prospect  of  ever  being 
anything  else.  Oh,  if  the  farm  would  only  educate  its 
children  instead  of  crushing  the  life  out  of  them  like 


AT    THE    STILE.  263 

the  wheel  of  Juggernaut's  car!     I  shall  never  be  able 
to  make  anything  of  my  life.     I  shall  die  a  nobody." 

She  wrung  her  hands  with  despair  and  sobbed. 
Her  future  had  never  looked  so  nearly  hopeless. 

"  If  I  only  didn't  care,"  she  thought.  "A  good 
many  people  don't  care  to  make  any  particular  stir  in 
the  world.  Some  girls  would  even  be  glad  to  escape 
penury  by  marrying  Mr.  Markley ;  but  he's  worse  than 
the  poor-house." 
She  shuddered. 

"  Lele  would  help  me  if  she  could,  but  she  can't." 
Jen's  thoughts  rambled  on :  "  It  wouldn't  be  right  to 
let  her  do  it.  If  I  only  had  not  quit  school  so  soon, 
I  might  get  a  certificate  and  teach  school  to  get  a  start 
on  my  musical  education.  But  as  it  is,  I  couldn't  make 
even  a  license.  I  seem  to  have  darned  and  patched 
and  boiled  and  baked  all  the  knowledge  out  of  my 
skull.  The  'Woman  with  the  Rolling-pin'  is  just 
about  on  a  level  with  the  '  Man  with  the  Hoe.'  Neither 
has  time  to  cultivate  any  part  of  the  human  being  that 
is  not  material.  The  mind  shrinks  and  dries  up  like 
toasted  bread  before  the  fire.  Poor  farmers  and  their 
families  have  no  use  for  intellect.  They  ought  to  be 
born  with  just  enough  vitality  to  keep  them  at  work, 
but  not  enough  to  make  them  conscious  of  their 
misery." 

She  sat  down  on  the  stile  again  and  began  to  sing 
a  little  love  song  that  she  had  learned  from  her  mother, 
who  was  also  gifted  in  music.  The  air  was  yet  vibrat- 
ing with  her  pure  notes,  when  a  hand  was  lightly 


264  THE  MAN   WITH   THE   HOE. 

pressed  over  her  eyes,  and  a  merry  voice  exclaimed: 

' '  Like  an  enchanted  boat 

My  soul  in  ecstasy  doth  float 
Upon  the  waves  of  her  sweet  singing." 

Jennie  sprang  up,  very  white  for  a  moment,  and 
then  stormily  flushed : 

"Ward!  how  did  you  get  here?" 

"  I  was  out  squirrel-hunting.  Didn't  expect  to  find 
a  nightingale  at  this  hour." 

"  I  did  not  know  you  ever  hunted  here,"  said  Jennie, 
gravely.  "Allow  me  to  say  good-evening." 

"And  leave  me  alone  after  I've  scrambled  through 
seas  of  briars  to  join  you?  I  rather  guess  not !  Why, 
in  heaven's  name,  when  you  sing  so  divinely,  do 
you  sit  mute  through  all  that  tinny  song  service  at 
Bethany?" 

"  I  fear  it  would  not  increase  the  harmony." 

"  Probably  not.  You  would  be  picked  to  pieces 
by  a  few  jealous  nobodies."  He  sat  down  and  motioned 
her  to  a  place  by  his  side.  "  Repeat  that  song  for  me, 
Jennie,  will  you  ?  " 

"  You  have  heard  me  sing  at  home,  often,"  said 
Jennie,  "  and  if  you  will  come  " — 

"  Oh,  I  dare  not.  Think  on  that  bloomin'  racket 
'twixt  my  revered  parent  and  your  tender-hearted 
brother." 

"What  racket?     I  did  not  know  of  any  quarrel." 

"  I  had  forgotten  that  Syd  doesn't  chatter  all  of 
his  troubles  in  the  ear  of  his  devoted  family  as  I  do. 
Well,  Jinsey,  the  fact  is,  Collins  Pater  came  home  last 


AT  THE  STILE;.  265 

evening  stumbling-  with  wrath  after  a  row  with  Syd, 
who  it  seems  had  boiled  over  at  last  —  I  wonder  it 
didn't  happen  long  ago  —  and  vowed  to  exterminate 
the  whole  or  any  part  of  the  Collins  tribe  at  sight 
the  first  time  they  appeared  on  this  side  the  line.  I  got 
a  hearty  blowing  up,  myself,  on  the  strength  of  it,  I 
promise  you.  Am  bound  by  all  sorts  of  oaths  not  to 
set  my  foot  on  the  Fairfax  farm  before  the  middle  of 
September." 

"Then  why  are  you  here?"  asked  Jennie,  with 
asperity. 

"  It  was  a  one-sided  article,  Jinsey.  Daddy-kins 
swore  all  the  oaths  and  I  only  laughed,  not  loud  but 
deep,  especially  when  he  warned  me  to  look  for  a  wife 
in  some  other  direction." 

Jennie  rose,  her  heart  beating  fast,  and  confronted 
him  with  flashing  eyes : 

"  Give  me  my  bonnet,  Ward,"  she  said,  holding  out 
a  hand  for  the  captured  article. 

"And  leave  me  —  what?"  he  asked,  detaining  her. 

"Solitude?" 

"  I  don't  enjoy  it." 

"  '  The  wise,'  'tis  said,  '  are  never  less  alone  than 
when  alone.'  " 

"  I  don't  pretend  to  be  wise,  Jinsey,  and  I  positively 
hate  to  be  alone.  I  wonder  you  would  think  of  com- 
ing here  all  by  your  little  self." 

"  I  come  here  often  to  practice  singing,  as  it  is  th° 
only  place  I  have  ever  found  where  there  is,  or  has 
been,  no  danger  of  being  interrupted." 


266  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

"  You  have  been  here  hundreds  of  times,  perhaps, 
and  never  had  an  auditor  till  now  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  call  that  a  waste  of  good  material.  Let  me  be 
the  audience  after  this." 

"  I  think  not,  Ward,"  said  Jennie,  candidly.  "  Syd 
wouldn't  like  it." 

"  Probably  not,  since  he's  at  the  outs  with  the  Col- 
linses generally.  You  needn't  let  him  know  anything 
about  it." 

"  I've  always  considered  Syd's  preferences." 

"  I  thought  there  was  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  girls 
when  somebody  else's  brother  wa?  the  first  to  be  con- 
sidered." 

"  Even  if  he  didn't  care,  I  would  far  rather  see 
you  at  home  than  here.  You'll  be  there  anyhow  before 
to-morrow  night  —  to  see  Lele,"  she  added. 

"  No,  I  won't.     We've  quit." 

"  That's  a  hackneyed  phrase  with  you  —  about 
girls." 

"  It's  true  as  gospel  this  time.  Lele  and  Daddy- 
kins  both  have  their  faces  set  against  me  for  Syd's  step- 
brother. I'm  just  as  free  as  air,  Jennie,  and  I'm  com- 
ing out  here  to-morrow  evening  to  see  you." 

"  It  wouldn't  be  right,"  said  Jennie,  reddening. 
But,  oh,  how  she  wished  that  it  zvas  right. 

"Jean,  you  haven't  a  particle  of  romance  about 
you." 

"  It  is  not  a  question  of  romance,  Ward." 

"You    clearly    don't    care    a    straw    whether    I'm 


AT   THE  STILE.  267 

pleased  or  not,"  said  Ward,  in  an  injured  tone.  "  I 
thought  once  that  you  —  liked  me." 

The  girl's  cheeks  crimsoned. 

"  Are  we  —  friends, —  Jinsey  ?" 

"  We  are  not  enemies,  I  hope,"  said  Jean. 

"  It  seems  to  me  half  the  time  that  we  are." 

A  passionate  denial  rose  to  her  lips,  but  she 
repressed  it.  To-morrow  she  would  be  glad  to  remem- 
ber that  no  foolish,  sentimental  words  had  passed 
between  herself  and  Ward.  Again  she  held  out  her 
hand  for  the  sunbonnet,  which  Ward  still  held. 

"  Well,  I  shall  give  you  your  bonnet,  Jinsey,"  he 
said,  after  demurring  a  while,  "  on  one  condition." 

"And  that?" 

"  You  must  give  me  —  a  kiss." 

Jennie's  eyes  flashed  wide  and  dark  under  their 
heavy  lashes.  Ward  felt  as  far  from  comprehending 
the  soul  that  looked  out  of  those  wonderful  eyes  as  he 
was  from  being  able  to  make  love  in  Hindoostanee. 
But  he  had  sense  enough  not  to  repeat  his  request.  He 
gave  her  back  her  bonnet  in  silence.  She  took  it  with 
an  offended  air,  but  repented  a  little  and  turned  back 
as  she  was  leaving  him. 

"  Good-bye,  Ward,"  she  said  ;  but  Ward  had  turned 
suddenly  sulky  and  did  not  hear.  "  What  have  I 
done  ?  "  asked  Jennie. 

"  What  have  I  done?"  repeated  Ward,  in  an  injured 
tone. 

"  Why  must  you  always  talk  nonsense  ?  "  asked  Jen- 
nie, reproachfully. 


268  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

"  Confound  it,  Jennie,  a  fellow  never  knows  what 
to  say  to  you.  It  will  be  a  lucky  man  that  finds  the 
right  road  to  that  heart  of  yours." 

Jennie  had  put  on  her  sunbonnet.  It  was  white, 
with  a  wide  frill  of  embroidery  and  a  blue  lining.  Jen- 
nie's dark,  bright  face  looked  more  attractive  under  it 
than  he  had  ever  in  his  life  remembered  it. 

"  What  has  come  to  Jen  of  late  ? "  he  thought. 
"  Her  eyes  would  make  the  fortune  of  any  artist  cap- 
able of  painting  them." 

Obeying  a  sudden  impulse,  which  a  man  less  weak 
would  have  resisted,  he  took  both  her  hands  in  his 
and  exclaimed: 

"  Jinsey,  you  know  how  well  I  used  to  like  you.  Sit 
down  and  tell  me  why  you've  treated  me  so  badly  of 
late." 

"  I'm  sorry  if  I  did,"  said  Jennie,  with  quivering 
lips.  "  I  couldn't  help  it,  Ward." 

"  Do  you  want  to  make  it  up  once  for  all,  Jinsey  ?  " 

His  tone  had  grown  tender.  Jennie  faltered  "Yes," 
r.nd  the  next  moment  was  in  his  arms,  her  long  lashes 
drooping  against  cheeks  that  his  lips  had  touched  as 
with  fire. 

Ward  did  more  serious  thinking  in  the  next  thirty 
seconds  than  he  had  ever  done  in  any  previous  thirty 
minutes  in  his  life.  It  was  simply  impossible  to  look 
into  Jen's  eyes  without  knowing  how  entirely  her  heart 
was  his,  how  true  she  had  been  to  her  childish  vows. 
Why  had  he  gone  so  far  in  making  light  love  to  a 
serious  girl  like  Jennie? 


AT  THE  STILE.  269 

"  What  am  I  to  do  to  get  out  of  this  ?  "  he  groaned 
inwardly.  "  I  never  dreamt  it  as  a  proposal.  If  poor 
Jinks  had  ever  been  in  society,  she  would  know  that  a 
fellow  never  means  half  what  he  says,  and  that  kisses 
don't  count  as  much  as  engagement  rings." 

He  suddenly  discovered  that  he  was  late  to  supper, 
and  that  his  mother,  apprehensive  that  he  had  shot  him- 
self instead  of  a  squirrel,  would  be  sending  out  a 
searching  party. 

"  But  to-morrow  evening  at  this  hour  I  will  see  you 
again,"  he  added. 

Disappointment  and  doubt  began  to  conflict  with 
Jennie's  faith  in  her  childhood  lover.  She  experienced, 
too,  feelings  of  anger  that  he  should  expect  her  to  meet 
him  clandestinely. 

"  You  don't  want  to  meet  me  —  here  ?  "  she  fal- 
tered. 

"  I  can't  come  to  your  house  just  at  present,"  said 
Ward,  evasively.  "  Syd  and  Daddykins  would  com- 
bine to  break  up  the  meeting.  But  I  can  see  you 
here  "- 

"  No,  Ward,  you  can  not !  "  cried  Jennie,  her  anger 
suddenly  flashing  up.  "  I  don't  care  to  entertain  young 
men  who  do  not  respect  me  enough  to  come  to  my 
home  to  visit  me." 

"All  right,"  said  Ward,  outwardly  angry,  though 
inwardly  glad ;  "  no  use  to  be  on  friendly  terms  with 
you,  I  see.  A  girl  that  has  no  more  confidence  in  a 
fellow  than  you  have  in  me  shouldn't  trust  herself  in 
his  company  anywhere."  ("That  sounds  "well,"  he 


270  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

reflected,  "  and  there's  more  truth  in  it  than  I  usually 
put  in  my  sentences.") 

"But,  Ward"- 

"  I  mean  just  that,"  repeated  Ward ;  "  it  is  quite  as 
much  the  thing  to  see  me  here  as  in  your  step-father's 
house  —  having  known  each  other  all  our  lives,  as  we 
have." 

"  It  doesn't  seem  so  to  me." 

"  I  try  to  be  a  gentleman  everywhere,  and  I  think 
you've  always  known  it.  But  there's  no  use  for  us 
to  try  to  get  on  together.  We  can't,  so  we  might  as 
well  stop  trying." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jennie,  realizing  for  the  first  time  how 
a  drowning  person  feels  when  he  catches  his  last 
glimpse  of  the  green  hills  by  the  river-side. 

"  I  wish  you  good-evening,  Jennie,  and  sincerely 
apologize  if  I  have  offended  you." 

"  Good  evening,  and  —  good-bye !  " 

Jean  spoke  the  words  mechanically,  her  eyes  full 
of  regret  and  longing.  Ward  turned  to  go,  but  looked 
back  indecisively,  and  his  face  softened. 

"  Is  it  good-bye?"  he  asked,  in  a  winsome  under- 
tone. 

"  If  she  stays  now,  it  will  be  on  a  different  footing," 
he  thought.  "  I  wish  she  would  stay." 

"  If  you  can  not  come  to  our  house  —  yes !  "  said 
Jean,  firmly. 

"  It's  just  obstinacy,  Jinsey." 

"  It's  just  because  I  won't  do  what  I  think  wrong 
even  to  please  you,  Ward." 


AT   THE   STItK.  27! 

"  I'm  sorry  I  ever  asked  you,  then,  if  that's  the 
way  you  look  at  it.     Good-bye,  Jennie." 
"  Good-bye,  Ward." 

******* 

The  next  afternoon  Ward  was  lying  on  the  parlor 
sofa,  with  the  blinds  drawn  to  exclude  the  sun,  when 
Keith  Hubbard  chanced  to  call. 

"  Oh,  stay  out  of  here,"  he  cried,  fretfully,  when  the 
parlor  door  opened.  "  Beg  pardon,  Keith.  I  thought 
it  was  Roy,  and  I  can't  have  him  in  here.  My  head 
aches  to  distraction.  Have  the  kindness  to  lock  the 
door,  will  you  ?  " 

"  What  ails  you,  Polly  ?     You  look  knocked  up." 

"  I'm  in  a  confounded  scrape,  that's  what,"  said 
Ward,  pounding  Trix's  miracle  of  art  —  the  sofa  pil- 
low. "  I've  thought  and  thought  till  I'm  sick  of  think- 
ing, and  I  can't  see  my  way  out  of  it." 

"A  queer  thing  to  happen  to  Ward  Collins,  I  must 
say.  Better  'fess  up,  and  if  there's  a  way  out,  I'll  help 
you." 

"  I've  made  a  fool  of  myself,  Keith  —  such  a  blamed 
fool." 

And  with  great  frankness  he  related  what  had 
passed  between  himself  and  Jennie. 

"  Keith,  I  hope  I  may  die  if  I  had  the  remotest  idea 
of  making  serious  love  to  her,'  he  added. 

"  Why  not  write  and  make  it  up  ?  " 

"  Make  it  up,  the  dickens !  When  I'm  dead  in  love 
with  her  fascinating  step-sister  ?  That  was  really  why 
I  couldn't  go  to  the  house  to  see  Jen.  I  had  studied 


2/2  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

it  all  out,  and  Lele  suited  me  better  for  a  wife  than  any 
girl  I  ever  saw.  So  I  had  just  made  up  my  mind  '  to 
put  it  to  the  test  and  win  or  lose '  Miss  Fairfax,  when 
I  got  my  foot  into  it  with  Jen,  and  I  don't  know  how 
to  get  it  out." 

"  Kick  yourself  a  few  times  when  you  do,"  sug- 
gested Keith. 

"  I've  done  that  already,  but  it  doesn't  help  matters 
at  all.  I've  made  a  true-hearted  girl  believe  I'm  in 
love  with  her  when  I'm  not  —  much."  He  tore  his 
hair  and  groaned,  which  made  Keith  laugh. 

"  You  don't  know  now  whether  you  are,  or  not," 
he  said,  jeering-ly. 

"  I  tell  you,  Hubby,  I  shan't  forget  the  look  in  Jen's 
eyes  when  we  parted  if  I  live  a  hundred  years.  And 
to  think  I've  got  to  meet  her  every  time  I  call  on  Lele, 
and  know  she  considers  me  a  regular  scamp!  I  wish 
I  had  shot  myself  while  out  squirrel-hunting.  I  do 
indeed." 

Keith  reflected. 

"  You  can  meet  Lele  at  entertainments  for  a  while 
instead  of  her  home,". he  said,  presently.-  "  I'll  get  up 
a  few  for  your  especial  benefit.  In  this  way  you  will 
scarcely  see  Jennie.  She  hardly  ever  goes  anywhere. 
And  when  you  do  see  her,  it  would  be  best  to  act  just 
as  usual.  I  can't  see  that  you  compromised  yourself 
much." 

"I  didn't  say  much,  and  I  didn't  mean  much," 
"Ward  replied,  "  but  —  I  kissed  her." 

"  It  wasn't  the  first  time,  I  suppose.    And  besides, 


AT   THE   STILE.  273 

where  would  you  be  if  you  were  called  to  account  for 
all  your  kisses  ?  " 

"  Jen  is  so  different  from  other  girls,  Hubby,  so 
different.  She's  unique  in  that  she  knows  neither  how 
to  deceive  or  take  deceit.  I  made  her  admit  with  her 
eyes  " — 

"  Polly,  what  if  Syd  knew  that  you  were  chattering 
all  this  stuff  about  Jen  ?  " 

"  I  don't  suppose  you'll  have  the  cheek  to  run  over 
and  tell  him." 

"  No ;  but  a  good  many  fellows  would." 

"  You  know  I  can't  live  without  a  confidant  of  some 
kind." 

"  No ;  if  you  were  a  hen-pecked  husband,  you'd 
chatter  your  troubles  in  the  ear  of  the  public.  I  warn 
you  right  now  that  I  won't  be  in  the  mix-up." 

"  '  No  cause  to  be  af eared  '  as  yet.  If  I  could 
exchange  tongues  with  some  butter- woman,  I'd  be  a 
single  man  for  years  yet." 

"  But,  if  not,  you're  liable  to  come  home  married 
almost  any  day.  Or  what  is  worse  —  engaged  to  the 
wrong  girl.  .I'm  getting  out  of  patience  with  you." 

"  Going  to  throw  up  your  job  as  adviser,  are  you  ? 
I  don't  much  care,  since  you've  taken  out  your  license ; 
only  I  don't  know  where  I  can  better  myself,  for  Morris 
is  no  good  since  I'm  out  with  Maud,  and  Ol  Stuart's 
mother  with  her  purity  pledges  and  missionary  boxes 
and  temperance  tracts,  is  enough  to  keep  any  young 
man  from  his  roof.  I  wonder  you  ever  go  there. 
Even  if  Alice  were  talkative,  her  virtuous  mother 
(18) 


274  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

would  rq^el  more  beaux  than  she  could  ever  attract." 

"  License  ?  "  interrogated  Keith,  catching  at  the  one 
word  in  the  whole  harangue  that  interested  him. 

"  To  preach,  I  mean.  When  you  get  down  to  cut 
and  dried  sermons,  I'm  out  —  with  Betsy." 

"  Fact  is,  Polly,  you've  got  about  to  where  you'd 
better  listen  to  preaching.  You've  done  some  shabby 
things  in  your  time,  old  fellow ;  like  when  Syd  was 
trusting  you  as  he  would  a  brother,  and  you  trying 
all  the  time  to  cut  him  out." 

"  I  wasn't  trying,  Hubby,  really.  But  I  just  found 
that  I  could  —  if  I  didn't  resist  much.  Resistance 
never  was  a  failing  with  me." 

"  Nor  a  virtue,  either.  You  ought  to  thank  your 
stars  that  you  had  Syd  to  keep  you  straight  as  long 
as  you  did." 

"  And  that  I've  still  got  you,"  laughed  Ward. 

"  You  surely  ought  to  learn  to  stand  alone  some 
time.  If  you  keep  on  sliding  " — 

"  I've  always  found  sliding  very  pleasant ;  and  as 
for  scrapes  —  this  is  about  the  worst  one  I  ever  got 
into,  and  it  isn't  serious  I  guess.  Still  I  do  wish  it 
hadn't  happened.  I'm  afraid  she'll  tell  Lelc!" 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
"  TILL  THE  FIRST  OF  SEPTEMBER." 

Ward  had  miscalculated  the  loyalty  of  his  old  play- 
mate, for  Jean  would  never  have  dreamed  of  "  telling 
Lele."  What  mental  tortures  she  endured  during  the 
succeeding  days,  none  ever  suspected — not  even  Ward, 
whom  with  the  curious  inconsistency  of  her  passionate 
nature,  she  never  blamed.  That  she  might  have  won 
the  only  man  she  had  ever  loved  by  resorting  to  that 
doubtful  expedient  —  a  clandestine  courtship  —  she  did 
not  doubt.  Many  a  romantic  girl  would  have  counted 
the  chance  of  happiness  which  she  had  relinquished,  as 
one  of  her  choicest  blessings.  To  be  sure,  it  was  but 
one  in  ten  in  her  favor,  but  what  girl  of  eighteen  ever 
sits  down  to  calculate  upon  the  adverse  chances  in  a 
love  affair  ? 

The  only  thing  that  caused  her  to  act  in  the  matter 
as  she  did  was  the  principle  instilled  by  her  Christian 
mother  —  that  one's  self-respect  is  to  be  maintained  at 
all  hazards.  She  felt  that  Ward  himself  would  not 
long  have  respected  her  did  she  consent  to  do  what  her 
own  conscience  pronounced  doubtful.  And  she  was 
right. 

The  loss  of  a  fickle  lover  is  by  no  means  the  great- 
est that  a  girl  can  sustain. 

(275) 


2/6  THE   MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

Jean  had  the  courage  and  pride  that  belong  to  high- 
strung,  sensitive  natures ;  and  she  would  have  suffered 
all  the  tortures  of  the  rack  before  she  would  have  let 
Ward  see  how  sore  had  been  her  disappointment.  For 
one  happy  moment  she  had  thought  he  really  loved  her. 
The  old  apple-tree  in  the  orchard  was  her  only  confi- 
dant, and  this  faithful  friend  kept  her  secret  well. 

If  her  depression  of  spirit  was  noticed,  she  stoutly 
averred  that  it  was  the  mortgage  alone  which  was  to 
blame ;  a  statement  that  was  fully  confirmed,  so  far 
as  Ward  was  concerned,  by  her  manner  toward  that 
young  gentleman  when,  after  a  few  days,  he  came  to 
call  on  L,ele  again.  Jean  seemed  to  have  forgotten  all 
that  had  transpired  at  the  stile,  and  treated  him  much 
as  any  other  girl  would  have  treated  a  friend  and  neigh- 
bor. She  was  learning  at  last  to  conceal  her  real 
feelings. 

Ward,  though  immensely  relieved  at  her  philo- 
sophical way  of  accepting  the  situation,  was  puzzled. 
He  never  had  been  able  to  comprehend  Jean's  contra- 
dictory moods,  and  he  often  said  "  she  was  queerer  than 
the  queerest  girl  in  Germany."  Everything  had  con- 
spired to  separate  him  from  his  old  playmate,  Jen's 
temper  being  no  small  factor ;  and  at  this  time  —  as  it 
happened  —  he  imagined  himself  absorbingly  in  love 
with  Lele. 

"  Tell  you  what,  Hubby,"  he  said,  in  one  of  his 
confidential  chats  with  Keith,  "  if  ever  a  fellow  was 
glad  of  anything,  I  am  that  Jen  had  the  sense  and  prin- 
ciple to  put  her  foot  down  on  meeting  me  at  that  stile. 


"TIU,    THE    FIRST    OF    SEPTEMBER."  277 

With  those  black  eyes  of  hers  she  might  have  cajoled 
me  into  a  runaway  marriage  right  on  the  eve  of  a 
wedding  with  my  little  heiress !  " 

"  There's  nothing  impossible  where  you  are  con- 
cerned," said  Keith,  drily. 

"  You  mean  I'm  not  much  to  be  depended  upon, 
eh  ?  " 

"  Not  much,  except  to  look  out  for  number  one, 
like  your  old  dad." 

"  Confound  you,  Hub !  When  did  I  ever  outrage 
the  proprieties  ?  " 

"  Never  had  a  good  chance,  or  you  would.  You 
need  a  good,  high-principled  wife,  if  ever  a  fellow  did." 

"  Lele  Fairfax  would  about  fill  the  bill,  I  guess." 

"  I  wouldn't  bank  much  on  Miss  Fairfax,  Polly." 

"  You  wouldn't?     I  wonder  why." 

"  It's  my  opinion  she  doesn't  care  the  snap  of  a 
whip  about  you.  She  sees  through  you  better  than 
Jen  does." 

"  Thanks !  " 

"  Better  give  her  up.  A  marriage  with  Jen  is  about 
the  only  thing  that  will  ever  make  a  man  of  you." 

"  Well,  Hub,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  are  right. 
But  you  can't  think  what  a  de'il  of  a  shindy  the  old 
man  would  kick  up  if  he  knew  I  contemplated  such  a 

thing !  " 

******* 

Syd  was  sitting  moody,  silent  and  alone  on  the 
veranda.  The  day  had  been  a  miserable  one  for  him, 
owing  partly  to  a  hot  argument  with  Mr.  Fairfax ;  but 


2/8  THE    MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

he  could  have  found  some  comfort  in  sitting  under  the 
honeysuckles,  hearing  the  girls  sing  and  play,  if  Ward 
Collins  had  kindly  stayed  at  home.  But  Ward,  in  those 
days,  would,  as  he  confided  to  Keith,  "  have  gone  past 
dragons  and  through  fire  "  for  a  glimpse  of  his  best 
and  latest  girl ;  he  was  not,  therefore,  likely  to  be 
detained  at  home  by  either  Trix's  scoffs,  or  fear  of 
Syd's  or  his  father's  displeasure,  or  yet  by  any  sensitive 
scruples  concerning  what  Jennie  might  say  or  think. 

"  But  if  I  were  not  so  gone  on  Lele,  I  half  believe 
I  should  lose  myself  to  Jen,  Keith,"  he  said  to  his 
confidant  on  his  way  over  there  this  evening.  "  Her 
eyes  sink  into  a  fellow's  very  soul." 

"And  Lele,"  began  Keith,  jestingly. 

"  Don't  you  call  her  Lele,  Hubby ;  that's  bad  enough 
for  me  to  do.  And  by  the  way,  old  man,  I  guess  I 
could  depend  upon  you  for  my  best  in  case  of  emer- 
gency, eh  ?  " 

"  Rather ;  I  should  say  I  had  promised  to  officiate 
in  that  capacity  on  half  a  dozen  different  occasions ; 
but  the  ceremony  never  comes  off,  does  it  ?  " 

Their  roads  parted  here. 

"Bye-bye,"  called  Ward  very  softly  after  his 
departing  friend.  "Kiss  Maud  for  me  once,  won't  you, 
Hubby  ? "  And  turning  in  at  the  Fairfax  gate,  he 
presently  stumbled  over  Syd  sitting  in  the  dark  on  the 
veranda. 

"  Beg  pardon,  Syd,"  he  said,  in  his  boyish  way, 
"  but  you  are  a  fry  to  mope  out  here  when  you  might 


"TIU<   THE    FIRST    OF    SEPTEMBER."  279 

just  as  well  be  in  the  parlor  having  your  bit  of  fun. 
Come  along,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Not  to-night,"  said  Syd,  stiffly,  and  sauntered 
down  the  avenue  toward  the  gate.  Ward's  light  laugh 
pursued  him. 

"  Confound  him !  "  he  muttered,  putting  his  hands 
over  his  ears  with  a  shudder.  "  I  wonder  how  I  ever 
could  have  liked  Ward.  That  laugh  of  his  rings  in 
my  ears  for  hours  after  I  see  him.  It's  simply  mad- 
dening." 

He  gazed  up  and  down  the  long,  winding  road, 
and  across  the  fields  toward  St.  John's,  shuddering 
again  as  he  heard  the  tinkle  of  Maud's  piano.  He 
wondered  if  Maud,  too,  would  contrive  to  happen  in 
while  Ward  was  here,  as  she  had  done  several  times 
before.  Twilight  deepened.  There  was  a  cloud  in  ihe 
west  that  rolled  itself  across  the  sky  until  it  swallowed 
up  nearly  all  the  stars.  Syd  prayed  for  rain,  but  with- 
out much  faith.  It  never  rained  when  you  wanted  it, 
and  when  you  were  perishing  for  a  little  sunshine,  the 
rain  poured  in  bucketfuls,  regardless  of  prayer. 

A  light  glimmered  in  the  parlor  window  at  St. 
John's,  then  disappeared  and  shone  again  from  an 
upper  window.  Syd  wondered  if  Maud  were  not  get- 
ting ready  for  a  drive  with  Keith  Hubbard,  and 
whether  she  would  venture  to  hold  the  lines  again. 
He  felt  in  a  contemptuous,  sneering  mood  to-night. 
Things  had  gone  so  sadly  wrong  that  day.  Crops  were 
not  improving ;  indeed,  they  were  growing  daily  more 
unpromising.  In  the  tobacco  patch  there  seemed  to 


28O  THE    MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

ba  at  least  one  worm  for  every  leaf ;  and  thrashing  was 
at  hand.  He  wondered  what  would  become  of  the 
worms  while  he  was  "  changing  hands."  It  usually 
took  about  two  weeks,  but  would  take  less  time  this 
year:  the  fly  had  damaged  his  wheat  considerably. 
And  he  had  confidently  counted  on  a  big  harvest  to 
help  him  out  with  the  interest  money! 

Syd  stood  under  the  vine-covered  gateway  at  the 
foot  of  the  lawn,  leaning  on  the  gate  in  grim,  discour- 
aged silence.  How  he  wished  for  his  old-time  faith 
in  Ward,  and  Maud,  and  everybody!  It  was  so  dis- 
tressing to  degenerate  into  a  cynic,  with  a  sneer  for 
everybody  and  even-thing.  Syd  had  not  expected  to 
develop  into  that  unpleasant  type  of  human  nature. 

He  was  so  busy  with  his  thoughts  that  he  did  not 
notice  the  approach  of  Ward  and  Lele  until  they  had 
nearly  reached  the  gate.  He  had  barely  time  to  step 
out  of  their  way,  for  he  was  in  no  mood  to  join  their 
laughing  chat.  Before  he  could  slip  away  unseen,  he 
heard  Ward  half  declare  his  love  to  Lele,  and  with  the 
amazing  assurance  that  characterized  that  volatile  gen- 
tleman, impress  a  swiftly  stolen  kiss  upon  her  lips. 

Lele  indignantly  repulsed  him. 

"  How  dare  you  ?  "  she  cried.  "  I  deserve  this,  per- 
haps, for  my  imprudence  in  coming  down  here  with 
you  at  this  hour.  In  future  I  shall  be  wiser.  Let  me 
bid  you  good-night." 

Ward  detained  her  as  she  was  running  away. 

"  Oh,  don't  leave  me,  Miss  Fairfax  —  Lele,  darling 
—  I  love  you.  Don't  you  understand?  I  hope  I  may 


THE   FIRST    OF    SEPTEMBER/'  281 


die  if  I  am  deceiving  you.  Listen  to  me,  Lele,  I'm  des- 
perately in  earnest." 

"  I  expect,"  said  Lele,  with  a  nervous  laugh,  "  to 
hear  Maud  St.  John  repeat  this  whole  scene  to-morrow 
night." 

"  By  Jove  !  what  do  you  take  me  for  ?  "  cried  Ward, 
deeply  mortified. 

"  I  take  you  to  be  very  much  in  fun,"  said  Lele, 
recovering  her  good  humor. 

"  I  swear  I'm  in  the  deadest  kind  of  earnest," 
declared  Ward,  getting  to  where  laughter  was  "  no 
good." 

"  You  had  no  right  to  kiss  me,"  said  Lele.  "  I 
don't  like  such  fun." 

"  But  it  wasn't  fun,  Miss  Fairfax.  Do  believe  me 
when  I  say  that  I  never  meant  to  offend  you." 

"  You  are  incapable  of  loving  me  or  any  girl,"  she 
said.  "  Your  love-making  is  all  put  on." 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Ward  began  to  tremble 
in  his  shoes  at  the  prospect  of  getting  an  out-and-out 
refusal. 

"  Oh,  don't,  Lele,"  cried  he  in  a  tone  of  abject  mis- 
ery. "  I've  made  a  fool  of  myself  by  speaking  too 
soon.  Give  me  till  the  first  of  September  to  retrieve 
myself." 

"  It  would  be  useless." 

"  I  won't  take  a  positive  '  No  '  "  he  cried.  "  I  can't 
bear  it.  Think  how  I  love  you  !  " 

"  But  I  don't  love  you,  and  I  never  can,"  said  Lele, 
candidly.  "  I  must  look  up  to  the  man  I  am  to  marry. 


282  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

I  must  feel  that  he  is  stronger  than  I.  I  can  never 
feel  so  toward  you." 

"  Jen  and  Syd  have  prejudiced  you  against  me," 
said  Ward,  feeling  that  he  deserved  little  mercy  at  the 
hands  of  Jean  and  her  bother. 

"  Mr.  Collins,  you  are  greatly  mistaken.  Neither 
of  them  ever  tried  to  influence  me  against  you." 

Ward  was  silent  a  moment ;  then  he  said : 

"  Lele,  I  hate  to  mention  it,  but  if  you  don't  care 
particularly  for  any  other  fellow,  I  should  think  it 
strange  you  would  throw  away  such  a  good  chance  to 
save  your  father's  home." 

"  You  mean " —  Lele  began  f alter ingly,  and 
stopped. 

"  I  mean  that  my  father  is  determined  to  sell  him 
out  in  September,  and  that  is  the  reason  I  spoke  so 
soon.  The  place,  if  he  gets  it,  is  to  be  my  share  of 
the  estate ;  and  you  could  buy  it  in  and  give  it  to  Syd 
or  any  of  your  folks  to  keep.  My  grandfather  left  me 
enough  to  buy  a  good  farm,  and  stock  it,  too.  I  don't 
want  you  for  your  money,  and  I  don't  care  a  continental 
what  you  do  with  it,  so  you  give  me  yourself." 

Lele  seemed  petrified.  She  did  not  speak  for  so 
long  a  time  that  it  seemed  to  Syd  in  his  involuntary 
ambush  that  he  should  die  of  that  pain  in  his  heart  if 
she  did  not  answer  soon.  Twenty  times  he  felt  that 
she  was  on  the  verge  of  a  sacrificial  acceptance.  Ward 
far  less  impatiently  awaited  her  reply.  He  knew  he 
had  played  his  best  card  last.  Syd  knew  it,  too,  and 
trembled  as  with  a  chill.  Oh,  that  silence!  AIT! 


"  TILL    THE   FIRST    OF    SEPTEMBER."  283 

how  Maud's  piano  tinkled  through  it  all,  like  a  grating 
laugh.  The  light-  had  returned  to  the  parlor.  Syd 
wondered  why  Maud's  movements  had  so  totally  ceased 
to  interest  him.  He  had  so  far  lost  faith  in  her  that 
it  would  not  now  have  pained  him  to  see  her  married 
to  Ward ;  but  the  thought  of  giving  Lele  up  to  his  old 
rival  pierced  his  heart  with  the  keenest  pain  he  had 
experienced  since  his  mother's  death.  It  was  as  though 
all  the  comfort  and  solace  that  had  come  into  his  dreary 
life  were  suddenly  to  be  snatched  away. 

"  I'm  afraid  I've  shocked  you/'  said  Ward  at  last. 
"  But,  Lele,  darling,  don't  think  I'm  posing  as  the 
villain  in  the  cheap  novel.  I'm  not,  by  Jove !  But  I'm 
perfectly  powerless  to  help  you  or  yours  unless  we're 
engaged.  I  could  do  a  great  deal  for  you  then.  And 
I  give  you  my  word  of  honor  not  to  interfere  if  you 
buy  the  land  and  give  it  back  to  your  father.  He's 
getting  old,  and  it  would  break  his  heart  to  lose  it." 

Lele  sighed  deeply  and  stared  at  the  dim,  dusty  road 
and  the  clover-scented  meadows  beyond,  sparkling  with 
fireflies.  Along  the  southern  horizon  great  stars  were 
shining,  as  yet  untouched  by  the  advancing  storm  cloud. 

"  Lele,  why  don't  you  speak  to  me  ?"  cried  Ward, 
in  tones  of  melting  entreaty.  "What!  Crying?  I'm 
a  confounded  fool  to  make  you  feel  so."  His  arm  stole 
around  her.  "  Oh,  dearest,  let  me  comfort  you.  Can't 
you  trust  me  and  love  me  a  little,  sweetheart?" 

"  Have  the  goodness  not  to  touch  me,"  said  Lele, 
haughtily. 


284  THE   MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

"  You  positively  hate  me,  I  believe,"  said  Ward, 
amazed. 

"  No,  I  like  you  very  much  when  you  act  sensibly. 
But  I  can't  bear  —  this  sort  of  thing." 

"  Don't  you  ever  expect  to  be  loved  and  caressed  by 
some  lucky  fellow?" 

"  I  wish  you  could  know  how  distasteful  this  con- 
versation is  to  me,"  said  Lele. 

"You  have  made  me  love  you,"  cried  impetuous 
Ward.  "And  now  you  are  so  heartless  that  you 
wouldn't  even  marry  me  to  save  your  father's  home." 

"I'm  not  heartless,"  said  Lele,  with  a  sob. 

Ward  repented. 

"  Miss  Fairfax,  forgive  me.  I  didn't  mean  it. 
You're  the  sweetest  girl  I  ever  saw,  and  if  you  could 
care  for  me  as  I  do  for  you,  I'd  be  the  happiest  fellow 
on  this  green  earth.  But  remember,  I'll  do  the  best  I 
can  for  your  folks,  anyway." 

"  Thank  you ;  that  is  kind,"  Lele  contrived  to  say 
unsteadily ;  "  but  I  do  not  think  anything  can  make  a 
difference  in  my  answer.  I  have  no  moral  right  to 
marry  you  just  to  save  my  old  home." 

"  You'll  leave  it  unsettled,  though,  for  the  present  ?" 
he  pleaded. 

"  Yes,  if  you  like ;  but  my  heart  tells  me  it  is  as 
much  settled  as  it  will  ever  be,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh. 

"If  you  weren't  so  steeled  against  me  I  am  sure  I 
could  make  you  love  me  in  time,"  said  Ward,  in  his 
most  winsome  tones. 

"  It  is  not  that,"  said  Lele.     "  You  will  see  yourself, 


"  TILL    THE    FIRST    OF    SEPTEMBER/'  285 

when  you  come  to  know  me  better,  that  we  are  totally 
unsuited  to  each  other." 

"Perhaps  when  you  know  me  better  you  will  change 
your  mind,"  said  Ward,  hopefully. 

A  few  minutes  later  Syd  heard  buggy  wheels  rolling 
swiftly  down  the  pike.  Far  in  the  distance  he  could 
still  hear  the  hoof-beats  of  Di  and  Venus  in  perfect 
accord.  Lele  had  disappeared  up  the  avenue,  and  when 
the  forerunner  of  a  summer  storm  began  to  toss  the 
highest  boughs  of  the  elm  trees,  Syd  also  retraced  his 
steps  to  the  house.  Thunder  was  booming  in  the  dis- 
tance and  the  last  star  had  fled.  A  few  large  drops  of 
rain  fell. 

"  If  we  can  only  have  a  shower !"  thought  Syd. 
"  The  atmosphere  already  seems  clearer." 

He  went  into  the  hall  with  an  elastic  step.  Lele 
came  running  down  the  stairs  with  an  anxious  look  on 
her  face. 

"  Oh,  Syd,  I  didn't  know  there  was  going  to  be  a 
storm !"  she  said,  tremulously. 

"  There  isn't,"  replied  Syd,  tranquilly. 

"  But  listen  how  the  wind  blows,  and  the  thunder 
is  getting  closer,"  cried  Lele,  in  terror,  as  a  furious 
gust  shook  the  house  and  red  lightning  gleamed  at  the 
windows. 

Syd  went  into  the  parlor,  and  after  a  struggle  with 
the  wind,  closed  the  shutters.  Then  he  seated  himself 
by  Lele  on  the  sofa  and  took  her  hand.  Instantly  she 
flushed  crimson. 


286  THE;  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE. 

"  You  don't  like  —  this  sort  of  thing  ?"  he  asked  her 
teasingly. 

"  You  were  at  the  gate  just  now?"  she  questioned, 
half  angrily. 

"  I  was  there  when  you  came,  and  couldn't  get 
away,"  he  confessed,  with  unfeigned  humility.  "  I 
heard  every  word." 

"  And,  like  Charlie  "— 

"  Unlike  Charlie,  I  shall  never  mention  it  again." 

"  You  don't  think  I  did  wrong,  do  you  ?" 

"  Wrong?" 

A  crash  of  thunder  shook  the  old  house  to  its  foun- 
dations. L,ele  retreated  to  the  onlv  place  of  safety  she 
knew,  Syd's  arms,  and  thereby  gave  him  the  impres- 
sion that  thunder  storms  were  made  in  heaven  for  the 
express  use  of  tongue-tied  lovers. 

"Didn't  the  lightning  strike  somewhere  near?"  she 
asked,  in  terror-stricken  tones,  but  making  a  dignified 
effort  to  appear  brave. 

"  I  guess  not,"  said  Svd,  reassuringly.  Ordinarily 
he  was  the  first  at  the  window  to  see  what  effect,  if 
any,  the  bolt  had  had  on  the  barn.  All  his  wheat  and 
clover  were  stored  there  now,  but  he  never  stirred. 
More  wheat  and  clover  would  grow,  but  two  such  pre- 
cious experiences  as  this,  which  had  suddenly  come  to 
him,  might  not  happen  in  a  lifetime.  He  accounted 
every  second  that  that  girlish  head  reposed  on  his 
shoulder  of  priceless  worth.  For  once  he  could  have 
the  supreme  satisfaction  of  pitying  Ward.  She  had 
repulsed  him.  Meanwhile  Svd  hailed  anything  short 


"TIU,    THE    FIRST    OF    SEPTEMBER/'  287 

of  a  cyclone  as  the  greatest  blessing  of  his  life.  A 
very  brief  blessing,  however.  In  a  few  moments  the 
wind  lulled.  The  thunder,  too,  rolled  less  ominously, 
and  Lele's  courage  returned. 

And  now,  too,  Jennie's  excited  voice  was  heard 
calling  them  in  the  hall. 

"  I  just  bet  they're  out  takin'  a  walk  an'  have  been 
thunderbolted,"  sobbed  Tude. 

"  Tude,  you  ought  to  be  a  woman's  rights  poli- 
tician," said  Charlie's  teasing  voice.  "  You  beat  the 
nabobs  for  combining  impossibilities." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  I'm  sure,"  said 
Tude. 

"  Why,  if  they've  been  thunderbolted,  how  can  they 
be  taking  a  walk  ?"  quizzed  Charlie. 

"  I  knowed  something  would  happen  to  somebody 
when  you  brought  that  hoe  in  the  house,"  said  Cora  to 
Charlie.  "  It  never  fails  to  bring  bad  luck." 

"Fiddlesticks!"  said  Charlie. 

"  I  don't  believe  you'd  care" 

"  Well,  I've  been  wanting  to  go  somewhere  ever 
since  I've  got  my  new  suit,"  said  Charlie.  "An'  a 
funeral's  about  the  only  chance  for  a  kid  of  my  size  to 
show  a  new  suit  on  Bethany  Ridge." 

Lele  and  Syd  caught,  through  the  half-open  parlor 
door,  snatches  of  this  colloquy  in  the  hall,  and  it 
brought  both  of  them  back  to  a  realizing  sense  of  their 
situation.  Moreover,  the  thunder  was  rolling  so  far  in 
the  distance  that  there  was  not  the  slightest  excuse  for 
further  timidity ;  even  the  rain  was  ceasing.  Only  the 


288  THE   MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

edge  of  the  storm  had  visited  Fairfax  Farm,  and  no 
good  would  accrue  to  the  crops,  after  all.     But  Syd,  for 

once,  was  not  disposed  to  quarrel  with  the  weather. 

****** 

Mr.  Fairfax  came  bustling  into  the  parlor  a  moment 
later,  and  looked  hurriedly  about  him  with  a  glance  of 
real  anxiety. 

"  I  thought  I  heard  them  come  in,"  he  said,  and  at 
the  same  time  caught  sight  of  Syd  and  Lele  sitting 
decorously  on  the  sofa,  but  with  eyes  glowing  with 
suppressed  laughter. 

"  Not  thunderbolted  yet !"  said  Lele,  radiant  with 
the  mere  joy  of  living  and  loving.  Syd  looked  down 
at  her  with  a  half  smile  that  told  his  keen-witted  step- 
father more  than  he  would  have  been  willing  to  reveal. 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  Mr.  Fairfax,  cheerfully,  and 
as  Jennie  and  the  children  came  in  he  withdrew  to  his 
own  room. 

"  I'm  thankful  it  is  all  right,"  he  thought.  "  I  guess 
the  mortgage  will  be  lifted  without  difficulty.  Inviting 

Lele  home  was  a  real  stroke  of  genius !" 

****** 

Ward  reached  home  before  the  storm  broke.  To 
his  surprise  he  found  Keith  Hubbard  in  the  parlor, 
tuning  his  violin. 

"  Hello,  Hub !  I  thought  you  were  at  Maud's,"  was 
his  greeting. 

"  She  has  a  fellow  out  from  Lansing,"  said  Keith, 
in  very  low  spirits.  "  The  game's  up  with  me,  Polly." 


''  TILL  THE;  FIRST  OF  SEPTEMBER."  289 

"  Same  here!  Don't  play,  Hubby,  I'm  'drefful  low 
down/  " 

"  Actually  been  given  the  mitten  ?" 

"  Precious  close  to  it.  And,  Hubby,  I  wonder  if 
the  girls  feel  half  as  bad  when  they  lose  us  as  we  do 
when  we  lose  them." 

"  Worse,  Polly,  I've  no  doubt." 

"  Then  I'll  never  flirt  again." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
A  SET-TO  AND  A  SET-BACK. 

Old  Heldt  came  the  next  morning  a  little  earlier 
than  usual  with  his  cattle  complaints,  and  he  was  in  a 
towering  passion  this  time.  The  wind  last  night  had 
blown  down  some  portion  of  the  division  fence,  and  all 
of  the  Fairfax  stock  had  roamed  at  will  for  hours  over 
the  Heldt  farm. 

"  Ife  got  dem  sthocks  benned  oop,"  he  added, 
shaking  his  fist  under  Syd's  nose,  "  und  you  gids  none 
off  dem  home  undil  you  bays  me  dwenty-fife  tollar 
town." 

"  Twenty-five  fiddlesticks !'  said  Syd,  contemptu- 
ously. "  I'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind." 

Heldt  became  perfectly  inarticulate  in  English  and 
lapsed  into  Dutch  oaths. 

"  It  wasn't  my  fault  that  the  wind  blew  the  fence 
down,"  Syd  added. 

"  I  wants  my  dwenty-fife  tollar,"  shouted  Heldt. 

"  I  haven't  got  the  money,"  said  Syd,  beginning  to 
be  very  angry,  "  and  you  shouldn't  have  it  if  I  had." 

"  You  can  get  der  money  from  yer  sthep-seester," 
said  Heldt.  "  I  hear  you'fe  gongluded  to  marry  her, 
anyhow.  Fetter  be  soon  —  'fore  you're  sold  under  t'e 
hammer,"  he  added,  sneeringly. 

"  Save  your  slurs,"  cried  Syd.  "  Who  has  the  impu- 

(290) 


A   SET-TO  AND  A   SET-BACK.  29 1 

dence  to  invent  such  a  lie?"  he  added,  angrily,  when  he 
thought  of  Lele. 

Ed  was  coming  down  the  lane  with  a  hoe  over  his 
shoulder,  but  Syd  didn't  notice  his  approach.  He  was 
"  too  mad  to  see  straight,"  but  not  so  mad  as  he  became 
a  moment  later. 

"  Vy,  eferybody,"  Heldt  said  in  answer  to  his  ques- 
tion. "  It's  t'e  talk  off  t'e  Reedge.  Dey  say  you  air 
goin'  t'  buy  in  t'e  ole  man's  blace  mit  Lele's  money 
ride  away." 

Syd  now  saw  Ed  standing  by  Heldt,  eyeing  his  step- 
brother suspiciously. 

"  Are  you  ?"  he  asked. 

"  No !"  cried  Syd,  vehemently.  "  It's  a  lie,  and 
here's  something  to  nail  it !" 

He  struck  straight  out  from  the  shoulder,  and  the 
Dutchman,  heavy  and  strong  as  he  was,  went  down 
under  a  blow  that  would  have  staggered  an  ox. 

"  Good  heavens,  Syd !  you've  finished  him," 
exclaimed  Ed. 

"  I  guess  not,"  Syd  replied,  coolly,  and  stood  with 
folded  arms  waiting  for  his  opponent  to  rise.  Heldt 
scrambled  to  his  feet,  purple  with  rage. 

"  Coome  oud  in  der  peeg  road  und  fide  mit  me  like 
ein  man !"  he  shouted.  "  He  been  ripe  for  ein  fide  mit 
you  t'is  long  time." 

"  I  thought  so,"  Syd  replied,  pulling  off  his  jacket. 
"  Come  on ;  I'm  just  as  ready  for  a  fight  as  you  are." 

Tude  and  Cora  ran  after  the  two  men.  their  hair 
streaming  on  the  wind. 


2Q2  THE   MAN   WITH   THE   HOE. 

"  Oh,  Syd,  don't  fight !  Ed,  don't  let  them  kill  each 
other!"  they  screamed  in  chorus. 

"  Shut  up,  and  go  back  to  the  house !"  said  Syd, 
turning  upon  them  a  face  like  that  of  the  Iron  Duke. 
The  two  girls  fell  back  terror-stricken. 

"  Go  to  the  house,  I  say !"  thundered  Syd.  Cora 
and  Tude  retreated  as  rapidly  as  they  had  approached. 
Tude  confided  to  Jennie  afterward: 

"  I  never  was  so  scared  in  all  my  life.  And  Cora 
never  was,  either.  Syd  looked  awful." 

Syd  walked  down  the  lane  with  long,  swift  strides, 
and  flung  open  the  gate  for  the  panting  Dutchman  to 
pass  through.  Bloated  with  beer  and  winded  already 
from  his  fall,  Heldt  felt  himself  no  match  in  a  fair 
fight  with  the  muscular  young  fellow  before  him.  He 
whipped  out  a  big  bowie-knife. 

"  Not  fair,  not  fair !"  Ed  sang  out,  interposing  his 
hoe  between  them.  "  Fist  fight  or  none." 

"  Gol  darn  you !"  said  Heldt,  looking  suspiciously 
from  one  to  the  other.  "  Haf  I  got  to  settle  mit  both 
off  you  scubbs?" 

"  No,"  said  Syd,  making  Ed  stand  aside ;  "  but 
I'm  not  going  to  be  drawn  and  quartered  by  a  Dutch 
butcher  when  I'm  not  armed." 

And  with  a  dextrous  movement  of  the  hoe,  which 
he  had  snatched  from  Ed,  he  sent  the  knife  spinning 
into  the  long  grass  by  the  roadside.  Heldt  regarded 
his  skillful  maneuver  with  bulging  eyes,  and  his  ardor 
cooled,  now  that  his  knife  was  gone. 


A   SET-TO   AND   A   SET-BACK.  293 

"  Coome,  now,  Seet,  mine  claims  is  joost,  ain't  dey  ?" 
he  asked,  in  much  milder  tones. 

"All  just  claims  will  be  settled  in  time,  as  you 
know,"  said  Syd.  "  But  when  you  come  here  insulting 
my  step-sister  —  that's  something  to  be  settled  now. 
Are  you  ready?" 

"  Yah,"  said  Heldt,  laboriously  divesting  himself  of 
his  plaid  gingham  working  jacket  and  handing  it  to 
Ed,  who  stood  ready,  as  he  declared,  "  to  see  that  there 
was  to  be  no  funking  on  either  side."  Then  "  screwing 
his  courage  to  the  striking  point,"  Heldt  made  a  run  at 
Syd.  He  was  met  by  a  blow  full  in  the  forehead  that 
sent  him  rolling  in  the  dust.  Syd  waited  with  folded 
arms  for  his  enemy  to  recover  his  equilibrium.  In  a 
moment  the  Dutchman  renewed  the  conflict,  flying  at 
Syd's  throat  like  a  huge  bull-dog.  With  remarkable 
agility  Syd  eluded  his  grasp,  and  adding  a  few  pounds 
to  the  momentum  already  gained  by  the  Dutchman  in 
making  the  attack,  Syd  hurled  him  from  him  with 
force  enough  to  send  him  kersplash  into  a  ditch  filled 
with  stagnant  water  by  the  roadside.  Heldt  raised  his 
head,  snorting  like  a  rhinoceros,  while  Ed,  who  had 
just  sufficient  sense  of  humor  to  see  the  fun  in  a  fight, 
held  his  sides  with  laughter. 

Heldt  rolled  from  the  mud  into  the  dust,  and 
hesitating  to  rise,  stared  panic-stricken  at  his  cool 
antagonist. 

"  Py  sheeminy,  t'is  is  no  fair  fight,"  he  growled. 

"  Get  up  and  fight,  then,  you  awkward  booger,"  said 
Syd,  contemptuously. 


294  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

"  Gid  oop  ?  T'ere's  no  use  t'  gid  oop !"  whimpered 
the  Dutchman.  "  You  haf  learned  the  drick  off  strikin' 
like  lightnin'.  How'd  I  know  you'd  been  bractisin'  mid 
san'bags  all  summer?" 

"  I  haven't,"  said  Syd.  "  You  don't  want  to  fight. 
Get  up,  old  Beer-keg,  and  apologize  for  your  insults 
and  go  home." 

Heldt  got  up  with  some  difficulty,  mopped  his 
streaming  countenance,  and  proceeded  to  apologize. 

"  Now  go  over  to  that  infernal  old  sheep-trap  of 
yours  and  bring  my  stock  home,"  commanded  Syd. 
"And  if  you  come  here  with  any  more  of  your  insults, 
remember,  this  isn't  a  circumstance  to  what  you'll 
get!" 

"  I  only  repeaded  about  your  sthep-seester  what  I 
haf  hearn  tell  from  feefty  beoples,"  snuffled  Heldt. 

"  Go  tell  them  they're  every  one  a  blasted  set  of 
liars,"  shouted  Syd.  "  The  heavens  will  fall  before  / 
buy  this  farm  or  any  other  with  Lele  Fairfax's  money." 

"  Huh !"  said  Heldt,  in  a  tone  not  calculated  to 
soothe,  as  he  was  leaving.  Syd  caught  him  by  the 
collar  and  shook  him  like  a  rat. 

"  Now  look  here,"  he  said,  in  that  even  tone  which 
had  been  known  to  subdue  even  Jennie  in  her  worst 
moods ;  "  you'll  not  move  a  step  until  you've  promised 
me  that  you'll  knock  the  teeth  down  the  throat  of  the 
first  fellow  who  dares  to  mention  in  your  presence  that 
I  have  any  designs  on  Lele's  money.  You  hear?" 

"  Yah,  yah !  "  gasped  the  choking  sufferer. 


A   SET-TO  AND  A   SET-BACK.  295 

"  See  you  don't  forget  it,  then,"  said  Syd,  relaxing 
his  hold. 

"All  ride,  all  ride,"  said  Heldt,  grabbing  for  his 
jacket  and  hat.  "  Und  if  I  effer  set  foot  on  t'is  blace 
again,  you  may  shoot  me  for  a  rabbit." 

"  I  don't  think  we  should  miss  it  much,"  said  Syd, 
turning  on  his  heel.  Heldt,  gesticulating  and  mutter- 
ing "  Gol  darn !  "  at  every  step,  started  for  home,  leav- 
ing his  dog,  which,  probably,  through  loyalty  to  its 
master,  had  been  having  quite  a  row  with  Clem's  pup. 
Syd  gave  the  creature  an  admonitory  kick  in  passing, 
and  it  turned  on  him  with  a  growl. 

"  Go  home !  "  shouted  Syd,  in  a  tone  that  would 
have  startled  a  dog  of  brass. 

The  next  moment  something  went  through  the 
fence  like  a  bullet.  It  was  Heldt's  cur,  an  animal  that 
ever  afterward  kept  a  respectful  distance  between  him- 
self and  the  Fairfax  farm. 

As  for  Syd  —  his  day,  that  had  dawned  so  full  of 
promise,  was  spoiled.  The  episode  had  rendered  him 
uncompanionable  to  the  last  degree.  And  by  evening 
a  grim  resolve  had  been  formed.  Lele,  burdened  as 
she  was  with  her  troublesome  money,  was  not  for  him 
—  that  was  certain.  The  Ridge  people  must  have  gos- 
siped horribly,  or  such  a  slow  coach  as  old  Heldt  would 
never  have  "  caught  on."  And  he  had  been  discussed 
by  a  great  many  people,  no  doubt  —  surely  not  fifty, 
but  enough  to  convince  Syd  that  he  was  being  ridiculed 
and  condemned  by  most  of  the  community. 

Syd  abhorred  ridicule  above  all  things,  and  longed 


296  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

to  be  commended,  by  right-minded  people,  for  doing 
right.  Try  as  he  would  he  could  not  imagine  a  mar- 
riage with  Lele  in  any  light  that  seemed  commendable. 
She  would  be  throwing  herself  away.  And  how 
unwise  it  must  appear,  to  cooler  heads,  for  a  young 
man  to  obligate  himself  to  care  for  a  family  of  his 
own,  when  his  mother's  children  were  still,  and  would 
be  for  years  to  come,  dependent  upon  him.  He  simply 
could  not  do  it.  He  must  have  been  mad  when  he 
dared  think  of  it  last  night. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
THE  MAN  AND  THE  HOE. 

"  If  it  would  only,  only  rain !  "  said  Jennie,  for  the 
hundredth  time. 

The  drought  had  lasted  so  long  that  her  eyes  ached 
as  badly  as  her  heart  by  reason  of  looking  for  clouds 
that  never  came,  or,  if  they  did  come,  ended  in  sound 
and  bluster,  as  did  the  one  on  the  previous  night, 
accompanied  by  little  or  no  reviving  moisture. 

By  8  o'clock  on  the  morning  succeeding  the  storm 
all  traces  of  the  night's  shower  had  vanished.  The 
stock  penned  up  by  Mr.  Heldt  had  returned  to  their 
usual  feeding  ground. 

It  had  become  an  added  source  of  discouragement 
to  look  each  night  for  a  "  bank  in  the  west,"  or  at  sun- 
rise for  the  sun  "  drawing  water,"  in  hopes  that  the 
long-looked-for  rain  would  materialize. 

Jennie  had  anxiously  watched  for  the  new  moon  as 
a  harbinger  of  approaching  showers ;  but,  no !  the  silver 
horn  hung  straight  from  its  upper  point  as  though 
nailed  to  a  star,  empty  as  a  silver  platter.  She  knew 
then  that  little  or  no  rain  could  be  expected  during 
the  month  —  and  a  prolonged  drought  at  this  season 
meant  ruin.  As  it  was,  everything  was  drying  up. 
The  pole  beans  were  dying,  their  blossoms  not  devel- 

(297) 


298  THE    MAX    WITH    Till-:    HOE. 

cping  a  single  bean.  The  cucumbers  were  curling  into 
little  yellow  crescents,  hanging  downwards  from  the 
vines  in  ludicrous  imitation  of  the  treacherous,  dis- 
appointing moon.  The  tomatoes  lay  sprawling  over 
the  ground,  with  their  smooth  surfaces  blistered  and 
blackened  by  the  torrid  sun.  In  the  faint,  hot  breezes 
the  young  corn  blades  curled  and  rattled  ominously. 

Was  there  ever  such  an  aggravating  expanse  of 
cloudless  azure?  Jennie,  sick  with  foreboding  she 
knew  not  what  result  from  the  foreclosure  of  the  mort- 
gage, worked  herself  into  a  mood  that  made  cheerful 
human  companionship  unbearable. 

"  I  declare !  "  she  exclaimed,  for  the  hundredth 
time,  "  it's  perfectly  maddening  to  see  all  the  clouds 
go  by  and  never  a  drop  of  rain  for  us." 

"  It  rained  cats  an'  dogs  at  Si  Collins's  last  night," 
said  Charlie,  coming  in  with  a  rush,  impatient  for  his 
dinner. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  Jean,  enviously.  "  It 
always  docs,  to  hear  him  tell  it.  He  thinks  it  will  make 
us  feel  bad.  Who  told  you?" 

"  Sam  Cahill  reported  that  it  rained  two  brindled 
cats  and  one  stray  dog  with  a  tin-can  attachment,"  said 
Charlie,  seriously,  while  Cora  and  Tude  laughed. 

"  I  don't  call  that  much  of  a  witticism,"  said  Jennie, 
crossly. 

"  I'll  admit  it  was  dry  fun,"  said  Charlie.  "  Let's 
have  some  jam  for  supper,  Jinsey.  please." 

"  Keep  still,"  said  Jennie,  shortly. 


THE    MAN    AND   THE    HOE.  2QO, 

"  I'm  not  cut  out  for  the  unclertakin'  biz,"  said 
Charlie. 

"  You're  cut  out  to  be  the  awfulest  nuisance  that 
ever  lived,"  said  Jennie. 

"  I  know  you  would  gladly  trade  me  off  for  the 
gout  if  you  could,"  said  Charlie.  "  Tell  you  what,  Jen 
—  suppose  you  swap  me  for  Mr.  Markley.  I'll  war- 
rant he  wouldn't  crack  one  joke  at  your  expense  in  ten 
years." 

Jennie  walked  disdainfully  into  the  kitchen. 

"He'd  never  regret  the  bargain  —  but  once!"  said 
Charlie,  sotto  voce. 

"  Fretting  won't  do  any  good,"  he  presently  heard 
Lele  saying,  in  an  effort  to  cheer  Jennie  up. 

"  You  never  fret,  of  course." 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it.  Jennie  dear,  don't  you  think 
it  wrong  to  worry  so  much  about  things  you  can't  help  ? 
It's  so  much  easier  to  do  one's  duty  and  leave  every- 
thing to  God.  Think  how  much  better  it  would  be  to 
take  the  weather  as  it  comes,  knowing  that  it  is  ruled 
by  fixed  laws  over  which  our  wills  and  wishes  have  no 
power." 

"  I  might  if  I  were  an  altogether  different  person, 
and  if  the  weather  had  no  effect  whatever  on  my  bank 
account.  Advice  is  cheap." 

"  Going  at  cost,"  Charlie  interpolated. 

"  It's  something  one  never  gets  too  little  of  in  this 
world.  It's  well  there's  something  plenty  and  gratis, 
or  I  don't  know  what  would  become  of  us  poor 
wretches  " — 


3OO  THE    MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

"  Who  have  lived  to  be  nineteen,  goin'  on  twenty, 
without  getting  '  Mrs.'  attached  to  our  name,"  said 
Charlie,  through  the  keyhole. 

Jennie  turned  angrily  away,  but  Lele  took  up  her 
cause. 

"  Don't,  Charlie,"  she  said. 

"  I  know  she  hates  to  be  teased  about  her  age,"  said 
Charlie.  "  You're  getting  on  in  years  yourself,  Lele," 
he  added,  turning  his  guns  on  her. 

"  Yes,  I'll  soon  be  twenty-one,"  said  Lele,  serenely. 
"  Getting  to  be  quite  an  old  maid,  you  see." 

"You'll  never  be  an  old  maid,"  said  Charlie,  with 
conviction.  " '  You're  the  sweetest  girl  in  all  the 
world.'  "  And  he  went  out  on  the  porch  singing  at  the 
top  of  his  voice  snatches  of  "  Paradise  Alley  "  that  he 
thought  applicable  to  Lele. 

Jennie  felt  angry  with  him,  herself  and  the  world 
in  general.  If  it  would  only  rain,  now  while  it  would 
do  the  crops  some  good,  she  felt  that  she  could  endure 
even  Charlie  better,  and  Charlie  was  one  of  the  chief 
trials  of  her  life.  With  a  great,  delightful  downpour 
of  rain  she  felt  that  she  could  for  once  set  all  ills  at 
defiance,  and  be  for  a  time,  at  least,  as  sweet  and  sunny 
as  even  Lele  herself. 

Syd  ate  his  dinner  in  silence.  His  brow  was  still 
contracted.  It  was  evident  that  the  quarrel  with  Heldt 
had  left  him  in  no  gentle  mood.  There  was  not  so 
much  as  a  glance  for  Lele. 

A  hot,  sultry  afternoon  succeeded.  The  heat  in  the 
sun  was  intolerable.  Even  in  the  great,  breezv  hall 


THE;  MAN  AND  THE  HOE.  301 

of  the  old  farmhouse  there  was  little  comfort.  Cora 
and  Tude  were  asleep ;  Mr.  Fairfax  ditto.  The  boys 
were  in  the  fields ;  Lele  was  writing  letters. 

Rain  or  shine,  there  were  seasons  of  rest  and  quiet 
for  every  one  about  the  house  excepting  restless,  tireless 
Jennie.  Her  mood  even  now  was  out  of  unison  with 
the  brooding  stillness  of  the  hour.  Not  a  sound  broke 
the  hot  stillness  except  the  monotonous  hum  of  the 
sewing-machine,  where  Jen  at  a  terrific  rate  of  speed 
was  seeking  to  uncork  some  of  her  fiery  energy  and 
pent-up  discontent.  Life  was,  just  now,  a  very  bitter 
pill  to  poor  Jen. 

The  clock  struck  3.  Jennie  put  her  work  aside 
and  went  out  to  the  field  to  take  the  boys  a  drink. 
They  were  resting  in  the  shade,  looking  limp  and  worn 
with  fatigue  and  heat.  Syd  had  thrown  himself  down 
on  the  long  grass  under  a  huge  walnut  tree  a  little 
apart  from  the  rest.  Jen  went  to  him  last  and  sat 
down  by  his  side.  He  was  lying  face  downward,  with 
his  head  on  his  folded  arms,  his  hat  tossed  aside  on  the 
daisy-spangled  turf.  His  attitude  somehow  betokened 
despondency  in  an  unusual  degree. 

"  Syd,  what  ails  you  ?"  she  asked,  and  her  voice 
sounded  as  unmusical  in  her  ears  as  the  caw  of  that 
crow  flying  with  slow-flapping  wings  over  the  distant 
corn-field.  She  wondered  if  this  life  were  real,  or 
only  a  dream,  from  which  she  should  presently  awaken. 

"  Syd !  "  she  repeated  when  there  was  no  reply. 

"  You're  always  fancying  something,"  he  now 
replied,  curtly.  "  It's  a  disagreeable  habit." 


362  THE    MAX    WITH    THE    HOE. 

"  Everything  I  do  is  disagreeable,"  said  Jennie, 
sadly.  She  felt  like  a  hideous  blot  on  the  face  of 
Nature,  and  wished  herself  dead. 

"Jinsey,  I  didn't  mean  that,  really."  He  raised 
himself  on  one  elbow  and  looked  at  her  not  unkindly. 
"  But  it's  hard  enough  to  keep  up  appearances  at  home 
without  being  followed  to  the  field  and  every  change 
of  countenance  noted." 

"And  what  new  troubles  have  you  on  your  mind?" 

"  I  am  not  a  Catholic,  Jennie.  I  do  not  require  a 
father-confessor,  thank  yon." 

"  If  it's  Lele  Fairfax  you  are  grieving  over,  you 
might  marry  her  any  day  if  it  were  not  for  your  foolish 
pride." 

"A  trite  subject  —  long  since  worn  threadbare.  I 
thought  I  forebade  you  mentioning  it  again." 

"  There's  no  use  " —  began  Jennie. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Jean.  Will  you  leave  me,  or 
shall  I  leave  you?" 

"  I  shall  leave  you,"  said  Jean,  rising.  "  But  I 
v/ouldn't  grieve  over  anybody  as  you  do  over  her  —  if 
I  could  help  myself." 

"You  don't  grieve  over  anybody,  of  course." 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  haughtily  truthful.  "  But  I  can't  help 
myself  as  you  can." 

"  I  guess  it  would  only  be  pride  that  would  keep 
either  of  us  silent.  It  amounts  to  the  same  thing." 
He  sprang  to  his  feet  and  turned  to  resume  his  work. 
"  Thank  you  for  bringing  the  water,  Jinsey,"  he  added, 


TH£   MAN   AND  THE    HOE;.  363 

kindly ;  "  but  my  moods  must  never  be  commented 
on,  remember." 

Jennie  returned  slowly  to  the  house,  going  up 
through  the  orchard,  where  ripe  red  apples  were  drop- 
ping in  the  grass,  unheeded  by  the  pile  of  spotted  pig3 
that  lay  snoozing  in  the  fence  corner.  Jennie  thought 
they  looked  very  happy.  She  half  wished  she  were  one 
of  them,  and  could  presently  be  transformed  into  use- 
ful, harmless  bacon,  instead  of  growing  into  hardened, 
embittered  old  age,  and  finally,  perhaps,  enter  into  eter- 
nal torment.  Why  were  the  lower  animals  exempted 
from  future  punishment?  Why  couldn't  they  have 
souls,  too?  What  were  souls,  anyhow?  Jen  wished 
that  she  had  been  born  a  briar  or  a  nettle,  instead  of  an 
ill-tempered,  dissatisfied,  ambitious  girl,  with  all  the 
sins  of  tongue  and  brain  to  be  atoned  for  bye-and-bye. 
If  she  must  be  a  human  being,  why  shouldn't  she  have 
been  created  with  Lele's  sunny  temperament  —  sweet 
Lele,  who  could  so  completely  mask  her  real  feeling3 
under  a  smiling  exterior  that  even  Syd  felt  convinced 
that  she  regarded  him  as  a  favorite  relative  merely, 
and  not  as  a  lover. 

A  cloud  of  witnesses  could  scarce  have  convinced 
Jennie  that  Lele  was  at  that  moment  almost  as  miser- 
able as  herself. 

The  variableness  of  Syd's  moods  would  have  puz- 
zled any  one ;  at  times  they  amazed  Lele,  and  never 
more  than  the  contrast  between  his  manner  the  previous 
evening  and  that  of  to-day.  It  really  piqued  her  to 


304  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

know  that  a  quarrel  with  an  ignorant  Pennsylvania 
Dutch  farmer  should  make  Sycl  so  superlatively  unap- 
proachable. (She  did  not  know  the  real  cause  of  the 
fight.) 

"  Could  I  live  with  a  man  who  gets  sulky  over 
things  that  occur  away  from  home  and  won't  speak 
when  he  comes  to  the  house?"  she  thought.  "Ward 
would  never  do  that,  I  know." 

She  abandoned  her  letter-writing  and  went  out  for 
a  walk,  going  out  to  the  orchard  just  after  Jennie 
came  to  the  house.  Presently  she  found  herself  near 
the  barn.  The  doors  stood  invitingly  open,  and  white 
pigeons  and  swallows  were  flying  in  and  out.  The  air 
was  so  sweet  with  the  fragrance  of  clover  hay  that 
Lele  was  tempted  to  enter  and  seek  to  divest  her  mind 
of  various  reflections  of  a  disquieting  nature  by  rum- 
maging for  hens'  nests  in  the  mows.  The  search  was 
perfectly  bootless,  though  hens  with  their  heads  tilted 
defiantly  back  were  cackling  loudly  in  the  barnyard. 

At  last,  warm  and  listless,  she  sat  down  on  one 
of  the  low  mows  to  rest  and  think.  Deeper  and  deeper 
she  sank  in  the  odorous  billows  of  hay,  and  before  she 
was  aware  that  drowsiness  was  stealing  her  senses 
away,  she  was  in  the  land  of  dreams.  It  seemed  that 
the  old  log  mows,  with  the  oaken  threshing  floor 
between,  and  the  dim,  black  rafters  and  cooing  pigeons 
overhead,  had  scarcely  faded  into  visions  of  gently- 
flowing  brooks,  wide  meadows  and  green  valleys  dotted 
with  milk-white  sheep,  when  she  awoke  with  a  start. 


THE   MAN   AND  THE   HOE.  305 

to  find  little  Clem  sitting  beside  her,  fanning  her  with 
his  wide  straw  hat. 

"  Why,  Clem,  where  did  you  come  from  ? "  she 
asked,  starting  up. 

"  Syd  sent  me  in  f  r  a  hoe.  He  broke  his,  'n  if  I 
don't  hurry  back,  he'll  give  me  Hail  Columbia." 

"  Beg  pardon,"  said  Lele,  with  a  mystified  look. 

"  Hail  Columbia,"  repeated  Clem.  "  Syd's  sharply 
off  on  his  temper  to-day,"  he  added,  using  one  of  his 
father's  pet  expressions. 

"  I  wonder  why."     Ah !  she  did  wonder  why. 

"  I  don't  know  'xactly.  I  think  it  was  his  fuss  with 
Heldt.  You  ought  to  have  seen,  Lele,  how  he  wiped 
up  the  ground  with  the  old  coot.  Syd's  a  customer 
when  he  gets  waked  up  that  you  don't  want  to  fool 
with  mor'n  once.  He's  worse'n  Jin.  She  can  waltz 
all  'round  him  with  her  lip,  but  words  don't  raise  no 
welts.  Dear!  There  he  comes  after  me.  Guess  I'll 
hide  in  the  orchard.  I  need  a  few  apples  to  build  me 
up  anyhow.  It's  too  tarnation  hot  to  work." 

Syd  came  in  with  the  air  of  a  constable  in  search 
of  a  culprit.  With  his  rough,  patched  clothes,  cowhide 
shoes  and  broad-brimmed  straw  hat,  he  would  have 
made,  just  then,  a  splendid  model  for  a  statue  of 
"  Toil."  The  white-robed  figure  in  the  hay-mow 
looked  up  somewhat  apprehensively.  He  was  scowl- 
ing when  he  came  in,  and  though  he  started  and 
changed  color,  his  brow  did  not  unbend  at  sight  of 
her. 

"Where's  Clem?"  he  asked,  abruptly.  He  was 
(20) 


306  THE   MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

actually  afraid  to  look  at  Lele,  whom  he  felt  he  had 
given  up  forever.  Horses  would  not  have  dragged 
him,  unresisting,  into  her  presence  just  at  that  time. 

"  Clem  has  gone  to  hide,"  said  Lele,  demurely. 
Syd's  brow  relaxed  as  their  eyes  met,  and  the  mag- 
netism of  her  presence  drew  him  to  her  side. 

"  What's  the  odds  ?"  he  thought.  "  There's  not  a 
cloud  in  the  sky,  and  I'm  insured  against  everything 
except  thunder  storms  and  gorillas ! ' 

He  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  mow  and  fanned 
himself  with  his  hat,  fumbling  with  his  collar,  which 
was  choking  him. 

"  This  infernal  weather  is  killing  me,"  he  burst  out. 
"  Excuse  me,  Lele.  I'm  so  cross  and  irritable  that  I'm 
not  fit  to  oversee  these  troublesome,  lazy  boys.  They 
have  the  true  philosophy,  though,  for  they  see  it's  no 
use  to  do  anything  this  weather,  and  I  —  don't.  A  hoe 
bounces  off  the  clods  like  a  rubber  ball.  It's  —  mad- 
dening." 

"  Things  will  come  out  all  right,  I  hope,"  said  Lele. 

"  No,  they  won't  come  out  all  right,"  said  Syd,  with 
a  burning  blush.  "  If  I  thought  they  would,  I'd  hardly 
be  risking  a  stiff  neck  in  trying  to  avoid  looking  at 
Lele,"  he  thought.  "  Is  there  any  place  she  could  be 
where  she  wouldn't  appear  sweeter  than  —  oh,  hang 
it!  I  wish  I'd  stayed  in  the  field." 

"  I've  been  fancying  all  along  that  I  was  keeping 
myself  afloat,"  Syd  remarked  aloud,  "  and  that  I  should 
finally  swim  through  my  sea  of  troubles,  and  succeed, 
as  it  were,  in  towing  the  rest  of  the  family  ashore. 


THE    MAN   AND  THE   HOE.  307 

By  Jove !  it  would  have  been  easier  for  Noah  to  beach 
the  ark.  Fancy  that  old  gentleman  splashing  through 
the  water  with  the  gopher-wood  canoe,  all  humanity 
and  the  animal  kingdom  at  his  heels,  and  you'll  know 
just  how  I  feel." 

The  roof  rang  with  peals  of  girlish  laughter,  and 
Syd  felt  relieved.  It  had  not,  for  some  time,  occurred 
to  him  to  turn  his  woes  into  ridicule.  It  was  safer, 
when  he  talked  with  her,  and  he  wished  he  could  keep 
it  up.  But  Lele,  after  laughing  a  moment,  became 
serious. 

"Jokes  aside,  I  know  just  how  you  feel,  with  the 
drought  and  all  to  depress  you,"  said  Lele.  "  I  surely 
ought  to  find  some  way  to  help  you  "- 

"  Help  me  ?  No !  You  can't !"  A  look  com- 
pounded of  shame  and  anger  crossed  his  face.  "  Never 
mention  it  again." 

Lele  was  a  little  startled  at  his  vehemence,  but  she 
persisted : 

"  If  I  can't  find  a  school  anywhere,  I  might  open 
a  milliner  shop  or  be  a  dressmaker,"  she  mused. 

"  No  Fairfax  ever  did  such  a  thing  as  that.  It 
couldn't  be  thought  of." 

"  I'm  not  one  of  you,  after  all,"  said  Lele,  wistfully. 
"  I  never  shall  be  looked  upon  as  a  member  of  the 
Fairfax  family." 

"  Not,  I  trust,"  said  Syd,  with  drooping  head, 
"  until  times  are  different  here.  You  are  not  like  us, 
Lele.  You  have  not  been  soured  and  embittered  by 
unsuccessful  farming.  And  you  never  shall  be !  " 


308  THE    MAX    WITH    THE    HOE. 

Lele  sat  with  downcast  lashes  and  fast-beating 
heart. 

Syd  had  been  thinking  for  hours  that  he  ought  to 
offer  some  explanation  for  his  lack  of  discretion  during 
the  thunder  storm.  She  ought  at  least  to  know  how 
utterly  out  of  the  question  was  matrimony  for  such 
as  he. 

"  If  I  were  free  to  live  just  as  I  pleased,"  he  said, 
"  I  am  sure  I  should  never  choose  a  'single  life.  I  am 
a  very  domestic  character,  I  think.  But  life  for  me, 
as  for  so  many  men  who  begin  with  small  capitals  and 
large  responsibilities,  will  probably  be  one  continuous 
struggle,  which  it  would  not  be  right  to  ask  any  woman 
to  share.  I  do  not  think  there  can  be  much  brightness 
in  such  a  future  as  mine,  and  if  my  past  is  a  fair  sam- 
ple of  what  is  to  come,  I  candidly  hope  it  will  not  last 
a  great  many  years.  We  are  not  put  in  this  world  for 
the  mere  pleasure  that  we  may  get  out  of  life,  of  course, 
but  to  perform  some  special  duty,  I  suppose.  I  see 
clearly  what  mine  is,  and  none  but  a  coward  would  try 
to  shirk  it.  My  promise  to  my  dead  mother  must  be 
kept." 

He  was  half  reclining  on  the  log  that  formed  the 
side  of  the  mow  next  the  threshing-floor,  his  chin  on 
his  hand,  the  somber,  dark-gray  eyes  uplifted  and 
gazing  at  her  dispassionately. 

The  flush  of  coming  tears  spread  over  Lele's  face. 

"  Don't  cry,  Lele.  I  really  can't  bear  it,'  said  the 
big  fellow,  unsteadily.  "  But  as  I've  always  said,  your 


THE    MAN   AND   THE    HOE.  309 

happiness  depends  upon  leaving  here.  You'll  be 
wretched  if  you  stay." 

"  It  won't  add  any  to  my  happiness  to  go  back  to 
St.  Louis." 

"  I  had  forgotten  Ward,"  said  Syd,  biting  his  lips. 

"  I  detest  giggling  men,  as  you  know,"  retorted 
Lele.  "And  it  would  be  my  greatest  pleasure,"  she 
added,  almost  inaudibly,  "to  keep  some  people  in  —  a 
good  humor." 

Syd  grew  deadly  pale.  He  realized,  as  never 
before,  how  near  she  was  to  him,  how  easily  he  might 
win  her.  And  her  money,  which  he  had  so  coveted, 
would  come  to  him  after  all !  Everything  that  now 
seemed  so  awry  could  be  righted.  He  could  purchase 
the  farm,  run  it  to  suit  himself,  be  prosperous,  die  a 
rich  man ;  and  with  it  all  he  need  not  break  his  promise 
to  his  mother.  Lele  would  help  him  in  every  way. 
But  who  would  ever  believe  that  he  had  married  her 
for  love?  What  would  Heldt  and  Ed  and  everybody 
think  of  him?  Why,  he  wouldn't,  after  the  scene  he 
had  made  this  morning,  have  the  respect  or  confidence 
of  even  Teddy  Grimes!  Marriage  with  Lele  Fairfax 
was  the  one  thing  in  the  whole  category  of  possibilities 
that  never  could  become  an  actual  fact.  His  fight 
with  Heldt  had  settled  that  forever.  With  great  bitter- 
ness his  mind  reverted  to  an  implement  which  seemed 
to  him  at  that  moment  a  fitting  emblem  of  disappoint- 
ment and  degradation. 

"  I  had  forgotten,"  he  exclaimed,  starting  up  as 
though  his  work  had  all  along  been  uppermost  on  his 


3IO  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

mind  and  must  no  longer  be  neglected,  "  I  came  for 
a  hoe." 

Procuring  one  in  the  tool-room  at  the  end  of  the 
barn,  he  came  back  with  a  very  dogged  look  on  his 
face.  - 

"  Lele,  you  see  this  implement,"  he  said,  holding 
the  hoe  at  arm's  length.  "  It  is  the  emblem  of  a  very 
hard,  very  discouraging,  very  narrowing  business.  I 
do  not  think  any  man  with  no  capital,  who  expects 
to  make  his  living  by  the  hoe,  has  a  right  to  marry." 

"And  yet  you  mean  to  keep  on  farming!  " 

"  I  must,  since  it  is  the  only  trade  I  have  ever  had 
a  chance  to  learn.  I  used  to  crave  an  education  that 
would  fit  me  for  a  professional  life,  but  lack  of  funds 
made  it  impossible.  I  know  nothing  now  but  how  to 
wield  the  hoe." 

He  spoke  with  great  bitterness. 

"  Don't  misunderstand  me,  Lele,"  he  went  on.  "  It 
is  not  farming  that  I  dislike,  but  unsuccessful  farm- 
ing ;  '  not  labor,  but  the  degradation  of  labor.'  I  love 
outdoor  life,  and  especially  the  free  life  on  the  farm 
with  your  favorite  animals  about  you.  No  one  loves 
Nature  better  than  I  do,  or  horses,  or  the  sight  of 
green  things  growing.  I  do  not  think  successful  farm- 
ing would  be  a  hard  life  for  any  one.  It  suits  me  after 
all,  far  better  than  a  profession  that  would  keep  me 
indoors.  To  be  a  really  independent  farmer  is  what 
I  should  prefer  above  everything.  And  I  mean  to  be 
one  yet,  if  I  live  long  enough.'1 

He  smiled  with  ill-feigned  hopefulness,  (which  sent 


THE    MAN    AND   THE    HOE.  3!  I 

a  dagger  of  pain  through  his  listener's  heart,)  and 
swung  the  hoe  over  his  shoulder.  A  moment  later  he 
was  out  in  the  hot  sunshine,  had  crossed  the  barnyard 
fence  and  was  going  swiftly  down  the  meadow  over 
the  crisp,  brown  stubble.  A  covey  of  young  quails  fled 
in  a  dozen  directions  through  the  weeds  at  his 
approach.  Syd  neither  saw  nor  heard  them.  His  eyes 
were  full  of  tears,  and  it  did  not  cheer  him  much  to 
know  that  the  girl  he  had  left  in  the  barn  was  crying, 

too. 

******* 

The  day,  which  had  been  so  intolerably  sultry,  drew 
to  a  close ;  and  again  thunder-heads  peered  above  the 
horizon  and  dark  clouds  began  to  mount  into  the  serene 
sky. 

"  We're  going  to  have  rain  to-night,"  said  Lele, 
confidently;  "  father  says  the  wind  is  just  right  for  it. 
And  didn't  you  hear  the  raincrow  this  morning?" 

"  I  don't  look  for  any  rain,"  said  Jennie,  in  a  dis- 
couraged tone. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Just  because  everybody  else  hasn't  been  supplied," 
said  Jennie,  bitterly.  "  We  never  get  anything,  even 
rain,  unless  there's  more  than  enough  to  go  around !  " 

But  about  supper-time  the  rain  came  sure  enough, 
driving  the  drenched  boys  into  the  kitchen,  which  was 
also  dripping.  The  roof,  already  leaky,  had  been  ren- 
dered ten  times  worse  by  the  protracted  drouth.  The 
shingles  had  been  so  warped  and  twisted  that  the  rain 


312  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

came  down  in  gallons,  necessitating  the  use  of  pans, 
kettles  and  buckets  to  catch  the  descending  torrent. 
The  water,  too,  ran  down  the  stove-pipe  in  a  stream, 
and  the  wind  drove  it  under  the  door.  To  make  mat- 
ters worse,  each  of  the  boys  had  carried  in  a  generous 
supply  of  mud  on  his  feet,  which  mingled  with  the 
water  on  the  floor. 

Harder  and  harder  poured  the  rain,  as  Jennie  strug- 
gled about  among  the  pans,  kettles  and  restless  feet, 
trying  to  get  supper,  for  which  the  hungry  boys  were 
clamoring.  She  did  not  feel  quite  so  thankful  for  the 
rain  as  she  had  expected,  and  everything  was  conspir- 
ing to  try  her  temper. 

After  the  rain  she  took  a  half-bushel  feed-basket 
and  waded  out  in  search  of  the  young  chickens,  which, 
lacking  proper  shelter,  had  huddled  in  wet,  shivering 
heaps  at  the  roots  of  shrubs  and  bushes.  Many  were 
drowned;  the  rest  Jennie  carried  in  and  put  into  tubs 
of  warm  water,  where  the  more  hopeful  presently 
revived. 

"  What  a  fine  rain  we  have  had !  "  said  Lele,  assist- 
ing her,  "  and  the  brightest  rainbow  I  ever  saw.  Did 
you  notice  it?" 

"No,"  said  Jennie,  shortly.  Three  of  her  flood 
sufferers  had  just  expired. 

"  Do  run  out  and  have  a  glimpse  of  it  while  I  attend 
your  patients,"  pleaded  Lele. 

"  Look  at  a  rainbow  while  my  fries  are  drowning !  " 
exclaimed  practical  Jennie. 


THE    MAN    AND   THE    HOE.  313 

"  It  would  take  but  a  minute,  Jennie  clear ;  and  Na- 
ture is  so  tranquillizing." 

"  Well,"  said  Jennie,  transferring  a  dozen  of  her 
most  hopeful  patients  to  a  flannel-lined  basket,  "  if 
everybody  had  such  a  time  when  it  rains  as  /  do — what 
with  the  leaks  and  mud  and  drowned  chickens  —  it 
would  take  more  than  a  rainbow  to  tranquillize  'em, 
I  guess." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
A  VACANT  CHAIR. 

"  Isn't  this  the  sweetest,  coolest,  most  delightful  old 
hall  you  ever  saw !  " 

Jennie  was,  as  usual,  at  her  mending  basket,  and 
Lele  looking,  as  her  step-sister  thought,  "  good  enough 
to  eat,"  in  her  white  dress  and  pink  ribbons,  was  trip- 
ping down  the  stairs. 

"  It's  comfortable  enough  when  there's  a  breeze," 
said  Jennie,  conservatively. 

"  Comfortable  wouldn't  spell  it,"  said  Lele,  with  her 
delicious  laugh.  "  Let  me  help  you,  my  dear,  and  let's 
talk." 

"All  right.  What  shall  be  our  subject?"  asked  Jen- 
nie, beginning  to  brighten  up  a  little. 

"Farming,'  said  Lele,  soberly.     "Do  you  like  it?" 

"  I  have  my  head  full  of  so  many  things,"  sighed 
Jennie,  '  that  farming  too  often  seems  a  drag.  But 
if  one  could  have  most  of  the  hardest  work  done.  I 
believe  I  should  not  object  to  a  farmer's  life.  You've 
got  to  be  mistress  of  the  situation  before  you  can  get 
much  pleasure  out  of  it,  though." 

"Are  you  always  so  busy  as  you  have  been  since 
I've  been  here?"  asked  Lele,  thoughtfully. 


A   VACANT    CHAIR.  315 

"Always  —  except  in  mid-winter,  and  it  isn't  much 
better  then,  really,  for  I  have  all  the  sewing  and  mend- 
ing to  do.  From  New  Year  to  Christmas  I  hardly 
ever  see  an  hour  that  I  can  call  my  own.  It  is  almost 
out  of  the  question  for  me  to  find  any  time  for  reading." 

"And  are  most  farmers'  wives  and  daughters  so 
busy  and  so  defrauded  of  leisure  time  for  rest  and 
recreation  ?" 

"  I  think  so.  Even  Mrs.  St.  John  complains  that 
she  is  worked  to  death,  and  the  St.  Johns  are  pretty 
well  heeled." 

Lele  gazed  out  of  the  door  absently. 

"  It  doesn't  seem  the  life  I  should  choose,"  she  said, 
dreamily.  "  I  mean  —  to  be  so  busy.  I  would  under- 
take less  and  so  have  more  leisure  to  enjoy  what  I 
had." 

"  There  is  just  one  continuous  round  of  duties  to 
be  performed  by  somebody.  And  if  you  don't  keep 
help,  you've  got  to  attend  to  them  yourself." 

"  I   should  keep   help,"   said  Lele,   decidedly. 

"  Probably  yon  might,  but  I  can't  afford  it,  and 
Cora  is  so  slow  and  dilatory  that  she  assists  me  very 
little.  If  I  live  here  fifty  years,  I  don't  suppose  my 
work  will  change  much." 

"  But  wouldn't  love  —  sweeten  labor  ?"  Lele  ven- 
tured. 

"  I  suppose  some  kinds  might :  but  playing  elder 
sister  to  such  boys  as  Ed  and  Clem  and  Charlie  isn't 
particularly  sweetening." 


316  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE. 

"  Poor,  misguided  Ed !  "  sighed  Lele.  "  Can't  you 
help  me  to  win  him  to  better  ways,  Jennie?'' 

"  I'm  afraid  not.  I  never  in  my  life  could  do  any- 
thing with  him.  Have  you  ever  read  '  Looking  Back- 
ward '  ?" 

The  conversation  drifted  to  books,  and  Lele  saw 
for  the  first  time  how  congenial  were  their  tastes  in 
regard  to  literature. 

"  I  thought  you  had  no  time  to  read,  and  that  you 
didn't  care  for  books,"  said  Lele,  presently ;  "  but  I 
find  you  do,  after  all." 

"  I  do  care  for  them,"  said  Jennie,  contritely,  "  and 
the  only  reason  I  said  what  I  did  was  because  an  evil 
spirit  possessed  me.  I'm  so  ashamed  of  the  way  I've 
treated  you  that  I  can  hardly  look  up  sometimes. 
Instead  of  doing  me  any  good,"  she  added,  with  crim- 
son cheeks  and  downcast  eyes,  "  it  only  added  another 
to  my  long  list  of  discomforts.  I  should  be  so  much 
—  I  do  not  say  happier,  but  less  unhappy  —  if  I  had 
always  treated  you  as  I  should,"  and  two  great  tears 
splashed  on  the  torn  sleeve  she  was  mending. 

"  Never  mind,  Jinsey.  Don't  mind  it,  dear,"  said 
Lele,  going  up  to  Jennie  and  passing  her  arm  around 
the  girl's  neck.  "  I  don't  blame  you  at  all  for  feeling 
toward  me  as  you  did.  But  I'm  more  thankful  than 
I  can  say  that  the  hard  feelings  are  all  gone.  Jennie, 
you  don't  know  how  empty  my  heart  was  when  I  came 
here  —  how  I  longed  for  the  love  of  brothers  and  sis- 
ters." The  sweet  voice  faltered,  and  when  she  laid 


A   VACANT    CHAI.R.  317 

her  face  against  Jennie's  there  were  tears  on  both  their 
cheeks. 

"  How  you  must  have  felt !  "  sobbed  Jennie. 

"  I  did  feel  awfully  bad,"  said  Lele,  making  an 
effort  to  recover  her  spirits.  "  I  haven't  much  ambi- 
tion or  longing  for  fame,  but  I  wish  to  be  loved.  I'd 
rather  have  you  all  love  me  than  be  the  author  of  the 
most  popular  book  ever  written." 

"  Really  ?"  said  Jean,  quite  unconsciously  using  one 
of  Syd's  phrases,  and  thereby  thrilling  her  auditor's 
heart  to  its  core. 

"  Is  there  anything,  next  to  a  hope  of  heaven,  more 
precious  than  a  h — than  domestic  happiness?"  Lele 
faltered  again.  The  end  of  the  sentence  was  almost 
inaudible.  "  Nothing,"  she  went  on,  more  audibly, 
"  would  make  me  so  happy  as  to  be  one  of  you  for  life 
—  a  real  sharer  of  all  your  burdens."  . 

"And  could  you  endure  to  spend  the  rest  of  your 
days  on  a  mortgaged  farm?" 

"  If  you  all  loved  and  trusted  me  —  yes." 

"  Lele,  we  do  love  and  trust  you  —  all  of  us  !  "  said 
Jennie,  clinging  to  her  new-found  friend. 

The  two  girls  with  their  arms  around  each  other 
presented  a  very  attractive  contrast  —  one  so  fair,  so 
delicate  in  her  coloring,  so  pure  in  contour  and  dress ; 
the  other  dark,  glowing  and  passionate,  with  a  new 
and  wonderful  charm  in  her  great,  dark  eyes  and 
uplifted  face. 

"  Lele,  you're  the  sweetest  girl  I  ever  saw,"  said 


318  THE;  MAN  WITH  THE;  HOE. 

Jennie,  presently.  "  No  wonder  people  love  you.  If 
you  had  come  to  live  with  us  sooner,  some  of  us  might 
have  come  to  be  like  you,  in  spite  of  our  troubles.  And 
you've  taught  me  this:  that  it  is  woman's  best  and 
most  natural  right  to  be  as  lovable  and  attractive  as  she 
can,  and  not  to  repel  everybody  by  fretting  and  scold- 
ing. Oh,  how  different  life  might  have  been  for  us 
all  the  last  two  years  if  I  had  taken  mamma's  advice 
and  tried  to  curb  my  wicked  temper.  Young  as  I  am, 
these  besetting  sins  of  mine  have  left  marks  on  my 
character  that  no  time  can  ever  efface.  And  all,  all 
to  no  purpose.  I  can  not  think  of  a  single  cross  word 
or  look  of  mine  that  did  not  make  matters  worse  instead 
of  better.  Cora  is  right  after  all.  She  will  make  all 
the  better  woman  for  her  easy-going  ways.  And  as 
for  you  —  everything  around  you  seems  full  of  sun- 
shine. I  am  only  a  blot,  a  shadow,  with  everything  to 
unlearn." 

Her  head  sank,  and  the  despondent  look  so  char- 
acteristic of  Syd  came  into  her  downcast  face.  Lele 
kissed  her  as  much  for  her  brother's  sake  as  for  her 
own,  but  with  a  genuine  longing  to  comfort  both. 

"  Don't  exaggerate,  Jinsey,"  said  she.  ''  I  know 
you've  had  hard  things  to  endure  for  one  of  your  pro- 
gressive nature.  On  the  other  hand,  I've  had  my  good 
times,  and  it  won't  hurt  me  to  '  rough  it '  a  litt!e. 
I  am  not  an  ambitious  person,  as  you  know.  I  hope 
to  do  some  good  in  my  humble  way,  but  shall  expect 
to  elevate  but  a  small  portion  of  this  old  globe.  You'd 
lift  the  whole  earth  if  you  could,  wouldn't  you?" 


A   VACANT    CHAIR.  319 

"  I  couldn't  die  in  peace  unless  I  had  done  some- 
thing for  the  world.  I've  never  had  an  opportunity 
yet." 

"  Is  there  a  greater  work  than  the  training  of  the 
Nation's  sons?  Think  of  the  four  under  this  roof 
whom  you  may  yet  influence  to  become  grand  men !  " 

Jennie  sighed  when  she  thought  how  this  work  had 
been  neglected ;  until  now  her  influence  was  worse  than 
nothing  with  any  of  them. 

"  I  see  at  last  what  a  selfish  life  I  have  lived,"  she 
said.  "  I  was  always  thinking  of  myself,  never  of 
others ;  always  reflecting  on  my  wasted  time,  '  on  my 
youth  going  from  me  unimproved  and  joyless' — on 
my  utter  inability  to  obtain  an  education,  or  be  any- 
thing better  than  a  kitchen  drudge." 

"  You  are  young  yet,  Jinsey ;  you  shall  have  oppor- 
tunities. I'll  see  that  you  have." 

"  No ;  I'll  never  have  any  educational  opportunities 
now,"  said  Jennie,  sadly.  "  I've  outlived  most  of  my 
dreams.  I  shall  " — 

"  Have  lots  of  happiness  yet,  Jinsey.  Let  me  see 
your  hand.  Just  as  I  thought  —  a  triple  bracelet ! 
Why,  your  later  days  are  going  to  be  crowned  with 
all  sorts  of  coveted  blessings." 

During  these  days  Ed  had  been  growing  more 
and  more  discontented  and  discouraged.  Lele  had 
many  long  talks  with  him  —  the  Christian  girl  with  the 
passionate,  impulsive  and  yet  weak  boy,  asking  him  to 
seek  help  from  the  One  whom  she  herself  found  so 


32O  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

comforting,  so  helpful.  But  he  pushed  it  all  aside  as 
cant.  Religion,  he  declared,  was  "  no  good  "  in  his 
case,  and  would  be  no  good  as  long  as  he  had  to 
remain  in  the  situation  he  was. 

"And  as  to  staying  here  much  longer,"  he  declared, 
"  to  be  a  mere  pack-horse  for  gentlemen  farmers  — 
by  Vum !  I  won't." 

"  But  for  the  present,"  Lele  urged,  "  when  every- 
thing is  in  such  a  sad  state  of  uncertainty  " — 

"  Things  have  been  in  a  dinged  sad  state  this  long 
while,"  Ed  interrupted,  "  an'  are  likely  to  keep  on 
melancholy  for  Lord  knows  how  long.  I've  had  about 
enough  of  it,  please  Moses,  and  want  to  see  a  new 
wrinkle  in  the  curtain." 

Lele  once  more  appealed  to  her  father  on  Ed's 
behalf,  but  to  no  purpose. 

"  Ed  has  been  a  great  deal  worse  since  you  began 
instilling  these  impractical  ideas  into  him  than  he  ever 
was  before,"  he  said,  impatiently.  "  Syd,  as  I've  told 
you,  was  once  as  discontented  and  unmanageable  as 
Ed  is  now.  But  by  keeping  him  under  and  making 
him  see  his  place,  he  got  over  it  and  settled  down  as 
I  intended.  Ed  will  have  to  come  to  it,  too." 

"  But,  father,  what  if  he  becomes  hopelessly  dis- 
sipated?" faltered  Lele. 

"  Pooh !  A  boy  with  empty  pockets  won't  venture 
far  or  indulge  in  much  dissipation." 

"Boys  rendered  desperate  by  parental  injustice  are 
often  tempted  to  steal  or  forge  notes." 


A   VACANT    CHAIR.  321 

Mr.  Fairfax  laid  down  the  newspaper  he  had  been 
reading,  and  an  angry  flush  rose  to  his  brow. 

"Lelia!"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  that  she  had  not 
before  heard  him  use,  "  if  I  hear  any  more  of  this  talk, 
I'll  cease  to  converse  with  you  on  any  subject.  I  pos- 
itively forbid  you  to  mention  Ed's  name  to  me  again." 

Thoroughly  discouraged,  she  was  compelled  to 
report  to  Ed  that  her  father  had  not  only  forbidden  her 
to  loan  him  money  for  the  purpose  of  learning  a  trade, 
but  had  vetoed  any  further  discussion  of  the  subject. 
Meanwhile  he  must  be  patient  until  his  majority,  when 
rte  would  be  free  to  choose  for  himself,  and  could  rely 
on  her  for  help. 

Ed  took  it  so  quietly  that  she  thought  he  had  given 
up  all  thoughts  of  going  away ;  but  the  next  morning 
his  place  at  the  breakfast  table  was  vacant,  and  investi- 
gation showed  that  he  had  not  been  in  his  room  over 
night. 

It  was  the  day  appointed  for  wheat-threshing,  and 
Jennie  felt  very  much  worried  over  his  non-appear- 
ance ;  but  Charlie  attempted  to  banish  all  fears  by 
asserting  that  "  it  was  just  like  Ed  to  slope  when  there 
was  a  big  pull  ahead,  and  come  back  when  there  was 
a  prospect  of  a  level  stretch." 

Syd  did  not  attach  much  importance  to  the  incident 
of  his  non-appearance,  as  he  knew  Ed  was  in  the  habit 
of  playing  cards  all  night  in  some  of  the  neighbors' 
barns,  coming  home  late  in  the  day.  His  father, 
though  ignorant  of  these  escapades,  was  also  not  very 

(21) 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE. 


apprehensive,  as  he  supposed  Ed  was  trying  the  effect 
of  a  temporary  absence  in  bringing  him  to  terms. 

The  morning  was  a  very  busy  one,  for  with  twenty 
men  to  cook  for,  there  was  little  time  to  think  of  any- 
thing save  tanner.  By  sunrise  the  machine,  which  had 
"  pulled  in  "  the  night  before,  was  whistling,  and  men 
from  the  surrounding  farms  kept  coming  in,  pitchforks 
in  hand.  They  were  a  motley,  grimy  crew  when  the 
signal  came  to  "  turn  out  "  at  noon  and  the  march  din- 
ner-ward began.  Jennie  had  performed  "  prodigies  of 
valor  "  in  getting  up  that  threshing  dinner,  as  it  was 
likely  to  be  the  last  in  the  old  home.  Huge  platters 
of  roast  beef  and  fried  chickens  were  passed  around. 
together  with  steaming  dishes  of  potatoes,  succotash. 
cabbage,  and  stewed  corn.  Pies  by  the  dozen  were 
scattered  over  the  long  tables,  interspersed  with  plates 
of  cookies,  gingerbread  and  sliced  pound-cake.  And 
every  convenient  nook  accommodated  either  preserves, 
jelly  or  pickles.  The  men  ate  ravenously,  joking  each 
other  on  the  amount  of  appetite  displayed,  and  wash- 
ing down  the  toothsome  viands  with  large  draughts  of 
steaming  coffee.  It  kept  all  the  girls  busy  replenishing 
cups  and  plates,  and  in  a  very  short  time  the  piled-up 
dishes  were  empty.  Then  the  men  filed  out.  laughing 
uproariously  at  the  appetite  of  the  last  to  leave,  and  the 
"  thrashin'  dinner  "  was  over. 

"  They'll  not  be  here  for  supper  if  we  have  luck." 
Syd  said.  "  The  machine  is  thrashing  at  the  rate  of 
a  thousand  bushels  a  day.  We'll  not  have  the  half 
of  that." 


A   VACANT   CHAIR.  323 

"  How  is  it  turning  out  ?"  asked  Jennie,  anxiously. 

"  Oh,  middlin'.  Not  as  well,  quite,  as  I  expected. 
Si  Collins  had  six  hundred  bushels." 

( "  Owin'  to  the  fly  an'  the  winter  freezin'  out,  an' 
bein'  rooted  by  hogs,  trampled  by  cattle  and  nibbed  by 
sheep,"  added  Charlie  aside  to  Lele,  "  not  to  mention 
the  midge  and  the  army  worm,  chintz  bug,  rust  an' 
drought,  nor  the  cockle,  smut,  wild  onions,  briars,  rain 
after  it  was  cut,  sparrows,  raincrows,  rats  and  mice. 
That's  what  middlin'  means,  Lele.  Poor  means  that  a 
hail  storm  has  knocked  the  socks  off  the  whole  crop 
just  before  cuttin'  time.") 

"  He  always  does  wonders,"  Jennie  said  in  re- 
sponse to  Syd's  remark.  "'  Is  there  much  smut  ?" 

"Some.  And  cockle!  Whew!  Part  of  it  won't 
hardly  be  worth  cleanin'."  He  turned  back  to  ask: 
"  Ed  got  home  yet?" 

"  Why,  no,"  said  Jennie,  giving  him  an  odd,  half- 
frightened  look.  "Hasn't  he  been  at  the  barn?" 

"  Haven't  seen  him.  Where  the  dickens  can  he 
be?  When  there's  nothin'  else  to  bother,  it's  him.  I 
declare  " — 

"  Hush !"  said  Jennie,  making  a  little  gesture  to 
indicate  that  Lele  was  in  the  next  room.  Syd  looked 
at  her  with  surprise.  It  was  an  ill  omen  surely  to  see 
Jen  so  still  and  considerate.  A  nameless  fear  grew 
upon  him. 

"  Where's  Ed?"  asked  Mr.  Fairfax,  coming  in  late 
to  his  dinner.  He  had  not  cared  to  dine  with  the 
greasy,  perspiring  threshers. 


324  THE   MAX   WITH   THE   HOE. 

"  Dear  knows  !"  said  Jennie,  with  ill-assumed  indif- 
ference, recalling  a  recent  quarrel  with  Ed.  They  had 
not  spoken  since.  And  now  what  if  he  had  killed 
himself?  She  rummaged  her  mind  in  vain  for  any 
memory  of  kindness  she  had  shown  her  erring  step- 
brother, notwithstanding  her  recent  determination  to 
do  better. 

"He's  run  off,  I  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Fairfax,  glanc- 
ing keenly  at  Lele.  "  Do  you  know .  anything  as  to 
his  whereabouts  ?  "  he  asked  her,  sharply. 

Lele  choked  back  her  tears  as  she  shook  her  head, 
and  the  table  having  been  partially  cleared,  the  family 
sat  down  to  dine  off  the  threshers'  "  scraps." 

At  3  o'clock  the  machine  pulled  out,  the  farmers 
following  it,  with  their  pitchforks  over  their  shoulders, 
to  St.  John's,  where,  as  it  happened,  Syd  had  not 
exchanged  work.  So  hearing  nothing  of  Ed,  he  and 
Mr.  Fairfax  set  out  after  supper  to  make  some  inquiries 
of  people  who  were  most  likely  to  have  seen  him.  But 
nothing  was  learned,  and  at  sunset  Syd  returned  alone. 
As  he  passed  the  house,  he  observed  Ward  standing 
outside  the  lawn  gate,  with  Venus's  bridle  thrown  over 
his  arm,  talking  with  Lele.  Venus  turned  toward  Syd 
with  a  recognizing  whinny  and  made  an  attempt  to 
follow  him  into  the  lane. 

"Whoa,  Ve!"  said  Ward,  jerking  the  bridle  in  a 
way  that  made  Syd  tingle  with  resentment.  He  had 
never  suffered  Venus  to  be  roughly  handled  when  he 
owned  her.  She  whinnied  again  pitifully,  and  turned 
her  soft,  full  eyes  on  her  former  master,  as  if  appealing 


A   VACANT    CHAIR.  325 

for  protection.     Syd  caressed  her  glossy  neck  with  a 
hand  that  trembled  slightly.     His  heart  was  full. 

"Haven't  you  any  news  of  Ed?"  Ward  asked,  in 
th"t  friendly  tone  which  had  been  so  dear  once,  but 
was  hateful  to  him  now. 

"  None,"  returned  Syd,  coldly.  "  Mr.  Fairfax  will 
not  return  to-night,"  he  added,  glancing  at  Lele.  "  He 
stayed  at  the  telegraph  office  in  hopes  of  obtaining  some 
clue.  Have  the  boys  done  the  feeding  yet  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Lele,  mechanically,  as  he 
rode  on.  "  Jennie  can  tell  you,  perhaps." 

"  Isn't  there  something  I  can  do  ?"  Ward  asked, 
with  a  boyish  longing  to  help. 

"  Nothing  whatever,"  said  Syd,  curtly,  as  he  opened 
the  gate  at  the  foot  of  the  lane. 

"A  regular  snub !  "  said  Ward,  reddening.  "  What 
have  I  done?" 

"  He's  vexed  and  worried  to  death.  You  mus'n't 
mind  him." 

"  He  was  hardly  civil  to  you,"  Ward  went  on,  more 
and  more  aggrieved.  "  Does  he  always  treat  you  so  ? 
I  seldom  see  him  of  late." 

"  Oh,  no !  "  said  Lele,  hurriedly. 
•    "  It  occurs  to  me  that  he  must  make  himself  in- 
tensely disagreeable  if  he  acts  in  this  way  every  day." 

"  He  doesn't !  "  Lele  colored  painfully.  "  He  says 
very  little,  but  is  seldom  rude.  However,  I  suppose 
one!s  brother  is  seldom  as  civil  as  somebody  else's 
brother." 

"  Syd   isn't  vour  brother  at  all.     Don't   vou  ever 


326  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

think  of  that?  I  should  think  you  would  —  both  of 
you." 

"  Why  should  we  ?"  But  she  could  not  meet  his 
glance  with  her  own  frank  smile,  and  the  color 
throbbed  painfully  in  her  cheeks.  It  was  the  first 
time  he  had  ever  seen  her  show  traces  of  embarrass- 
ment. 

"I  didn't  apprehend  ever  be'ng  jealous  of  old 
Syd,"  said  Ward,  astonished. 

"  No  need  of  any  such  apprehension,"  retorted  Lele, 
recovering  her  self-control. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Ward,  gratefully,  and  very 
much  against  her  wishes  he  took  her  hand.  "  I  say, 
Lele,"  coaxingly,  "  give  me  my  answer  before  the  first 
of  September,  won't  you  ?" 

"  I  think  you  have  it,"  said  Lele. 

"  Not  the  answer,  the  only  one  I  can  take,"  he  pas- 
sionately replied. 

He  looked  so  handsome,  so  completely  her  ideal  of 
a  youthful  lover,  that  Lele  absolutely  wondered  at 
herself  for  being  so  unmoved  by  his  fervor. 

"  I  don't  love  you,  Ward,"  said  Lele,  regretfully. 

"  Oh,  don't  say  it,  Lele,"  cried  Ward,  in  a  tone  of 
despair. 

"  Why  do  you  persist  in  caring  for  me  " —  she 
began. 

"  I  persist  because  I  can't  help  it,"  said  Ward,  mis- 
erably. "And  it  would  break  my  heart  to  see  you 
marry  Syd.  He  isn't  capable  of  loving  you  or  any 
woman.  Think  of  his  mulish  temper !  Why,  I  haven't 


A    VACANT    CHAIR.  327 

any!  If  you  were  my  wife,  I'd  strew  your  path  with 
rose-leaves.  You'd  never  know  anything  about  pov- 
erty or  hard  work*  ill-temper  or  anything  disagreeable. 
Our  home  would  be  nothing  but  sunshine.  Lele,  don't 
turn  away  from  me.  I  could  make  you  so  happy  if 
you'd  only  love  me*" 

His  tone  was  one  of  melting  tenderness.  And  Lele 
wished  to  be  loved !  But  not  by  him.  She  resolutely 
maintained  a  safe  distance. 

"  Why  do  you  talk  to  me  of  these  things  when  I'm 
so  wretched  about  Ed  ?"  she  said,  reproachfully.  "  I 
Can't  even  think  of  anything  now  but  him.  I  want 
you  for  my  good  friend  always,"  she  said,  gently,  "  and 
hope  to  see  you  married  to  some  one  better  suited  " — 

"  You  shan't  give  me  an  out-and-out  refusal,"  cried 
Ward,  interrupting  her.  "  I'll  wait  till  the  first  of  Sep- 
tember. You  surely  will  change  your  mind  by  that 
time." 

She  shook  her  head  sadly,  and  he  went  away  wish- 
ing heartily  that  he  had  not  chosen  such  an  inoppor- 
tune time  for  pressing  his  suit. 

Lele  wondered  vaguely  why  she  couldn't  love  the 
frank,  unaffected  young  fellow  who  possessed  in  such 
a  remarkable  degree  the  art  of  being  always  agreeable. 
Why  was  a  glance  from  Syd  more  potent  to  stir  her 
pulses  than  all  Ward's  impassioned  love-making? 

When  she  returned  to  the  house,  Syd  told  her  all 
there  was  to  tell ;  how  people  had  been  questioned, 
telegrams,  sent,  etc.,  without  establishing  the  faintest 
clue. 


328  THlv    MAX    WITH    THE    HOE. 

"  For  my  part/  he  said,  "  I  don't  want  him  to 
return  at  present.  It  would  only  lead  to  a  battle  be- 
tween him  and  his  father,  and  he  would  be  sure  to  leave 
home  again." 

"  Ed  was  never  conquered  in  his  life,"  said  Jennie. 
"  When  he  was  a  child,  and  even  when  he  was  bigger 
than  Charlie,  I've  seen  his  father  whip  him  until  he 
couldn't  speak,  and  yet  if  he  was  asked  to  give  up 
and  promise  to  do  better,  he'd  shake  his  head." 

"  Did  anybody  ever  try  to  conquer  him  by  kind- 
ness?" asked  Lele. 

"  Mamma  was  always  kind  to  him,"  said  Cora,  "  an' 
even  she  couldn't  do  much  with  him.  Oh !  he's  a 
case ! " 

"  A  hardwood  case  —  regular  teak,"  added  Charlie, 
laughing. 

"  I've  been  looking  for  this  ever  so  long,"  said 
Syd. 

"  It's  been  coming  on  gradually  for  about — eighteen 
years!"  Charlie  ended  the  conversation  by  remarking. 

*#.#**#* 

Mr.  Heldt  had  not  repeated  his  last  call  at  Fairfax 
farm,  but  the  next  morning  he  was  in  one  of  his 
fields  chasing  two  of  Syd's  hogs  with  his  fleet-footed 
cur  when  Mr.  Mellins  came  by.  The  latter  called 
out: 

"Helloa,  Heldt!     Hear  the  news?" 

"  Vat  news  ?" 

"  Why,  Ed  Fairfax  has  run  off." 


A   VACANT    CHAIR.  329 

"  Run  off,  hey  ?  Goot  riddance  off  pad  rubbish, 
/  say.  When  he  go?" 

"  Night  before  last,  I  guess.  Strange  how  worth- 
less he  is  —  so  different  from  Syd.  He  told  my  boys 
not  long  ago  that  he  didn't  care  what  became  of  him. 
I  shouldn't  be  much  surprised  if  he's  drownded  or 
shot  himself.  Now  I  think  of  it,  I  heard  a  pistol  shot 
over  in  the  direction  of  Hubbard's  woods  night  before 
last  about  ten  o'clock.  If  search  was  made,  I  shouldn't 
be  a  bit  surprised  if  they'd  find  his  body  there." 

Mr.  Heldt  soon  after  came  upon  Mr.  Si  Collins, 
who  was  by  the  roadside  with  his  old  clay  pipe  stuck 
in  one  corner  of  his  mouth  and  his  rusty  straw  hat 
curled  up  at  the  ears,  as  usual.  He  was  leisurely  whet- 
ting his  scythe,  for  he  had  been  cutting  weeds  out  of 
the  fence-corners,  and  sang  out  without  stopping  work : 

"  Hello,  Heldt !  Heard  anything  of  Ed  Fairfax 
yet?" 

"  Blenty !  "  roared  the  plethoric  and  slightly  deaf 
German.  "  Mellins  says  he  kilt  hisself  a'ready  yet." 

"Where,  in  the  plague?" 

"  Ofer  in  Hubbard's  woods.  By  gracious !  I  vish 
dot  whole  dribe  go  do  likevise,"  he  vociferated.  "  Dere 
sthock  shoost  eat  me  oop.  Ich  trive  hoks,  und  cattle, 
und  sheep  more  as  a  pound  poy,  und  ven  I  seek  tamages 
—  dom  dot  Seed  —  he  knocks  me  vlat." 

Mr.  Collins  lost  no  time  in  imparting  the  news  to 
the  next  neighbor,  who  had  some  news  of  his  own  to 
add.  The  Coroner  was  notified,  and  by  10  o'clock  the 
word  came  to  Syd  that  the  dead  body  of  his  step- 


33O  THE   MAN    WITH  THE    HOE. 

brother  had  been  seen  in  the  woods  on  the  north  side 
of  his  father's  farm. 

Syd  was  thunderstruck.  Worried  as  he  had  been 
about  Ed,  he  had  not  anticipated  a  tragical  ending  to 
the  search. 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  he  cried  aloud.  "  Ed  never 
would  have  killed  himself." 

"Here's  a  man  who  has  just  seen  a  man  who  saw 
the  body,"  said  Si  Collins.  "  They  say  he  was  last  seen 
in  a  quarrel  with  one  of  them  pikers,  and  that  he  was 
just  about  three  sheets  in  the  wind.  Better  not  tell 
your  folks  till  the  Coroner  comes.  The  gals'll  be  for 
totin'  the  body  home  whether  er  no." 

The  girls!  Syd  thought  with  a  great  heart-pang 
of  Lele,  and  of  how  she  had  tried  to  save  Ed  and 
make  a  man  of  him ;  of  the  many  ways  she  had  used 
to  induce  him  to  go  to  church  and  Sunday-school ;  of 
her  varied  other  efforts  to  humanize  the  neglected  boy 
and  fit  him  for  right  living.  Through  all  her  futile 
efforts  she  had  seemed  to  cherish  a  genuine  love  for 
the  erring  boy,  to  which  at  times  he  had  not  wholly 
failed  to  respond.  Syd's  heart  stood  still  when  he 
thought  of  the  shock  in  store  for  her. 

"  She  will  hear  it  best  from  me,"  he  thought ;  "  but. 
oh !  hoiv  can  I  tell  her !  " 

He  turned  and  strode  straight  across  the  fields,  his 
minds  a  chaos  of  contending  emotions.  In  the  orchard 
he  came  suddenly  face  to  face  with  Lele. 

Involuntarily   they   gazed   into   each   other's   eyes. 


A    VACANT    CHAIR.  33! 

Syd's  face  was  pale  to  the  lips,  and  there  was  a  look 
upon  it  that  told  her  hope  was  dead. 

"  Oh,  Syd,  what — what  is  it?"  she  gasped.  "Don't 
tell  me  Ed  is  —  dead." 

"I  hope  not.  I've  bad  news  of  him,  but  it  may 
not  be  true,  I  was  afraid,"  he  added  with  difficulty, 
"  that  some  one  else  would  tell  you,  and  I  thought 
you'd  bear  it  best  from  me." 

"  It  is  hopeless,  then !  "     Lele  grew  pallid  and  faint. 

"  They  tell  me  "^ —  he  came  close  to  her  and  held 
her  hands  in  his  strong  yet  gentle  clasp  — "  that  he  has 
shot  himself  or  —  been  killed  in  some  way  —  over  in 
the  woods." 

A  great  wave  of  horror  swept  over  her.  It  was 
vain  then  to  turn  to  Syd  or  any  earthly  source  for 
help.  She  sank  down  on  the  grass,  shaken  by  great 
tearless  sobs  and  moaning  like  a  hurt  child,  unconscious 
of  everything  save  overwhelming  grief  for  the  wrecked 
life,  the  lost  soul  of  her  unfortunate  brother. 

Syd,  pierced  to  the  very  soul,  and  hardly  conscious 
of  what  he  was  doing,  knelt  down  beside  her  and  took 
her  in  his  arms. 

"  Oh,  don't,  don't,  love  1  Don't  grieve  BO,  dar- 
ling !  "  he  pleaded  in  an  agonized  voice.  "  You'fe  kill- 
ing me,  I  can't  bear  it.  Think  what  I've  got  to  suffer 
—  what  remorse,  what  reproach.  Oh,  God!  to  think 
what  I  might  have  done  for  Ed,  and  I  never  did  arty- 
thing —  never  even  tried." 

Lele,  at  this,  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears,  but  pres- 


332  THE    MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

ently  grew  calmer,  and  turned  to  comfort  Syd,  whose 
face  struck  her  as  being  the  saddest  she  had  ever  seen. 

"  I  doubt  not  you  did  the  best  for  him  you  knew," 
she  said.  "  Don't  look  at  me  so,  Syd.  It  wrings  my 
heart." 

"  Lele,  do  you  really  believe  there  is  a  God  ?" 

"My  dear  brother,  how  can  you  doubt  it?" 

"  If  there  is  anything  in  God  or  religion,  why 
couldn't  you  have  saved  him  ?" 

"  I  only  know  that  we  must  not  judge  the  Lord  by 
feeble  sense,"  said  Lele,  sadly.  "  His  ways  are  inscrut- 
able, but  '  some  time  we'll  understand.'  " 

Another  ordeal  awaited  Syd  —  breaking  the  news 
to  Jennie  and  the  children.  Fairfax  Farm  had  not  wit- 
nessed so  sad  a  day  since  the  death  of  Lady  Rose. 
Jennie's  remorse  was  particularly  poignant. 

"  If  I  only,  only  could  have  the  last  year  or  two 
to  live  over  again!"  she  cried.  "  Mamma  made  me 
promise  to  be  patient  with  Ed,  but  I  never  tried.  And 
now  I'll  never  have  a  chance  to  tell  him  how  sorry  I 
am !  "  And  throwing  herself  down  upon  the  old  hair- 
cloth sofa  in  the  sitting-room,  she  indulged  in  such 
a  passion  of  grief  as  one  could  expect  from  nobody 
but  her. 

Two  hours  dragged  by.  It  was  noon  by  the  sun- 
mark,  but  not  the  slightest  preparation  had  been  made 
for  dinner.  The  house  was  quiet  as  Sunday ;  the  air 
soundless ;  hot  sunshine  poured  down  from  a  cloudless 
sky.  In  sickening  suspense  the  girls  waited,  expecting 


A   VACANT    CHAIR.  333 

every  moment  to  see  a  party  of  men,  headed  by  the 
Coroner,  bringing  home  Ed's  mangled  remains. 

The  clock  struck  12,  and  as  the  last  echo  died  away, 
Tude,  who  had  been  on  the  watch,  came  running  in 
to  announce  that  the  men  were  coming. 

Instantly  the  three  girls  on  the  back  porch  burst 
into  tears,  and  clung  to  each  other  sobbing. 

"  Don't  cry,"  said  Tude,  whose  large  eyes  shone 
with  excitement ;  "  they  haven't  got  him.  I  guess  they 
haven't  found  him  yet."  And  she  rushed  out  to  meet 
the  father  and  his  boys,  who  were  approaching. 

"  Did  you  find  him,"  father  ?"  she  asked,  with  the . 
naive  callousness  of  childhood.     None  of  her  sisters 
could  have  asked  him  that. 

Mr.  Fairfax  shook  his  head,  and  Syd  came  to  the 
porch  and  told  them  how,  in  company  with  twenty 
men,  they  had  searched  every  foot  of  the  woods  and 
found  not  the  slightest  trace  of  a  suicide  or  murder 
having  been  committed  there. 

"  It  is  useless  to  believe  a  word  you  hear,"  he  added, 
wearily.  "  People  invent  news  just  to  show  their  im- 
portance." 

The  afternoon  at  home  was,  if  possible,  more  agon- 
izing than  the  morning.  Hours  seemed  to  lengthen 
into  days  before  the  searchers  returned  with  the  nega- 
tive good  news  that  no  trace  of  the  lost  boy  could  be 
found.  Further  search  would  undoubtedly  be  useless, 
they  all  decided.  Ed  was  probably  alive,  but  no  hopes 
need  be  entertained  of  hearing  from  him  for  some  days. 


334  THE  MAN   WITH   THE  HOE. 

He  would  certainly  not  return,  or  even  write,  until  his 
father's  wrath  had  had  time  to  cool. 

When  Syd  went  into  Ed's  room  that  night  to  search 
for  any  scrap  of  information  as  to  his  intentions,  the 
sight  of  the  wheels  and  all  the  litter  and  debris  dear 
to  the  young  machinist's  heart  touched  him  deeply. 
Something  else  touched  him,  too  —  the  evident  attempt 
to  humanize  the  squalid  sleeping-room  —  Lele's  doing, 
probably ;  and  the  little  Bible  lying  open  on  the  stand 
—  Lele's  gift.  Syd  wondered  whether  Ed  had  ever 
read  it.  On  a  flyleaf  he  found  the  words  in  Ed's 
unmistakable  scribble  — "  Good-bye,  Lele.  You've 
been  good  to  me." 

Syd  thought,  with  a  groan,  of  how  few  had  ever 
been  good  to  Ed.  He  had  never  seemed  to  possess 
any  friends.  No  one  had  cared  for  the  unattractive 
boy  since  his  step-mother  died.  No  one  since  had  tried 
by  gentle  means  to  win  him  from  his  evil  ways,  until 
Lele  came.  And  now  he  was  gone  into  the  world, 
from  which  his  father  had  thought  to  keep  him,  with 
no  guide  but  his  own  unbridled  passions. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

PENITENCE;. 

During  the  succeeding  week  stagnation  settled 
down  on  the  old  Pennsylvania  farmhouse.  Nearly  all 
the  young  people  in  the  neighborhood,  including  Ward 
and  Maud,  had  formed  a  camping  party  and  gone  to 
spend  a  few  days  at  "  The  Springs,"  a  fashionable 
health  resort  in  the  next  county.  So  there  were  no 
callers,  as  at  first — nothing  to  break  up  the  dull,  heavy- 
hearted  life  under  the  elms. 

By  the  end  of  the  week  all  doubt  as  to  Ed's  fate 
was  set  at  rest  by  a  paragraph  in  'the  county  paper, 
which  stated  that  one  Ed  Fairfax,  having  drank  him- 
self into  delirium  tremcns,  had  been  arrested  for  assault 
and  battery,  and  was  now  lying  in  jail  in  a  very  pre- 
carious condition.  Mr.  Fairfax,  whose  honor  was 
touched,  lost  no  time  in  paying  his  fine  and  bringing 
him  home.  Worst  of  all,  a  note  for  two  hundred  dol- 
lars had  been  forged. 

On  a  hot  summer  afternoon  they  brought  him 
home,  weak  and  shattered,  well-nigh  lifeless.  Lele 
could  but  weep  to  see  the  immortal  soul  of  her  brother 
in  a  form  so  degraded,  and,  alas !  so  near  the  confines 
of  mortality. 

A  sad,  sad  day  under  the  elms.     A  silent,  hopeless 

(335) 


336  THE    MAX    WITH    THE   HOE. 

day,  full  of  regret  and  anguish  —  yea,  and  full  of 
shame.  Even  those  who  had  aided  in  the  search  for 
his  dead  body  held  themselves  aloof  when  they  knew 
the  circumstances  of  his  home-coming.  All  the  neigh- 
bors, even  to  the  pious  Mrs.  Stuart,  had  secretly  hoped 
that  his  course  was  run.  He  was  no  credit  to  the 
neighborhood,  they  all  declared.  Why  should  he 
return  to  be  a  vexation  to  his  respectable  father,  a  dis- 
grace and  drawback  to  his  marriageable  sisters,  and 
a  bad  example  to  his  little  brothers? 

No  one  came  to  inquire  whether  he  was  dead  or 
alive.  Delirium  trcmcns  is  a  disease  that  excites  little 
sympathy.  The  family  of  the  sufferer  usually  endure 
its  horrors  alone,  and  if  the  patient  die,  the  community 
is  more  or  less  scandalized  at  any  exhibition  of  grief. 

Bitterly  did  Lele  now  recall  her  crude  estimate  of 
country  life  before  she  left  the  Seminary  — "  Country 
people  are  happy,  because  they  have  the  great  peace, 
the  subtle  power  of  Nature  perpetually  about  them. 
Their  live?  of  quiet,  contented  toil  fit  them  for  right 
living." 

In  reality,  she  had  found  it  all  so  different!  She 
realized  now,  as  never  before,  that  character  is  not 
wholly  dependent  upon  what  might  be  supposed  to  be 
freedom  from  temptation.  A  moral  and  religious 
home  influence  is  just  as  essential  on  the  farm  as  in 
the  crowded  city. 

•if  :(:  H=  *  >fc  %  * 

The  very  day  after  Ed  was  brought  home,  Mr. 
Fairfax  was  called  away  upon  business,  which,  he 


PENITENCE.  337 

said,  would  admit  of  no  delay;  but  if  needed,  they  were 
to  send  for  him.  It  was  not  merely  to  get  away  from 
Ed  that  he  went,  (though  that  was  no  unimportant 
object,  for  he  could  not  bear  to  see  his  son  in  his 
present  state,  occupying  his  fastidiously  kept  room,  a 
source  of  keen  disgrace  and  humiliation  after  all  his 
parental  care,)  but  some  debts  had  long  been  due  him 
in  a  neighboring  town,  and  he  hoped  to  collect  enough 
to  repay  what  he  had  been  compelled  to  borrow  on 
Ed's  account. 

Meanwhile  his  son  lay  between  life  and  death  — 
silent,  sullen  and  impatient  of  control,  as  of  old,  when 
conscious.  At  first  he  declined  all  medicine,  and  could 
not  even  be  coaxed  to  swallow  food.  There  he  lay, 
with  his  eyes,  closed  and  his  teeth  clenched,  deaf  to 
all  entreaties.  When  told  that  he  would  die  if  he  did 
not  take  proper  nourishment,  he  replied  that  that  was 
just  what  he  most  desired,  but  that  he  wanted  no  fuss 
made  over  him.  All  he  wanted  was  to  be  quietly  left 
alone  until  the  breath  left  his  body,  and  then  to  be 
buried  like  a  horse!  A  remark  that  sounded  funny 
enough  to  the  doctor,  who  set  it  down  to  delirium ;  but 
to  the  family  it  was  heart-rending. 

The  doctor  having  failed,  Lele  tried  her  powers  of 
persuasion ;  but  their  only  effect  was  to  throw  Ed  into 
a  paroxysm. 

"  Leave  me  alone/'  he  cried,  shrinking  away  from 
her  with  an  expression  of  terror.  "  Do  you  think  I 
want  to  see  you  with  your  eyes  full  of  tears  and 
snakes  coiling  in  your  hair?  Yes,  snakes,  I  say!  Ah ! 

(22) 


33$  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

they're  comin'  again.  There's  one  around  your  neck. 
Oh,  heavens!  Take  it  off,  kill  it,  quick  quick!  It's 
going  to  spring !  Oo-oo !  there  it  is  on  the  bed !  " 
His  eyes  protruded  with  terror.  Weak  as  he  seemed, 
he  sat  up  in  bed,  striking  at  the  imaginary  reptile, 
while  great  drops  of  sweat  stood  on  his  brow.  Syd, 
coming  in  at  that  moment,  laid  a  firm  hand  on  the 
shoulder  of  the  trembling  boy. 

"  Lie  down,  Ed.  There's  nothing  to  scare  you. 
You're  all  right.  Not  a  snake  in  the  room.  You  are 
just  a  little  delirious,  that's  all." 

Ed  looked  around  slowly,  as  though  missing  what 
he  expected  to  see. 

"  I'm  cold,"  he  said,  shivering.  "  Look  if  there 
ain't  a  snake  under  my  pillow.  Be  quick,  you  fool. 
I  can't  sit  up  much  longer." 

"  There's  nothing  here,"  said  Syd,  shaking  up  the 
pillow.  "  Lie  down,  Ed." 

Ed  sank  back,  white  and  ghastly,  his  eyes  staring. 

"  Cover  me  up ;  I'm  cold,  cold,"  he  whispered.  "  I 
wouldn't  mind  dying,"  he  added,  with  a  grim  smile, 
"  if  it  wasn't  for  the  snakes.  Don't  they  bother  you, 
Syd  ?" 

"  No :  they  don't  bother  me  at  all,'  said  Syd,  gently. 
"  Go  to  sleep,  old  fellow,  and  you'll  be  all  right  in  the 
morning." 

"  If  I  was  well  and  strong,  I  might  be  able  to  get 
away  from  the  boogers."  said  Ed,  pitifully :  "  but  I 
can't  run,  an'  I'm  not  able  to  fight"-  — then  drawing 


PENITENCE.  339 

in  a  deep  breath,  he  added  with  cringing  terror:  "I'm 
afraid  they're  coming  again." 

"  Oh,  no !  "  said  Syd,  putting  his  hand  over  the 
other's  wild  eyes.  "  Shut  your  eyes  and  perhaps  you 
can  go  to  sleep.'' 

Ed  was  quiet  for  a  moment  or  two  only.  Then  his 
face  became  convulsed  with  indescribable  terror. 

"  Oh,  Syd,  the  ceiling  is  covered,  literally  covered 
with  snakes  !"  he  screamed.  "  Help !  they're  droppin' 
on  the  bed  by  hundreds.  Don't  you  see  them?  Good 
Lord !  There's  one  wrapped  around  your  arm.  Oh, 
take  me  out  of  this  and  let  me  die  in  the  fresh  air. 
I'll  go  mad,  mad,  if  I  have  to  be  cooped  up  with  these 
creatures  another  minute." 

Syd  made  another  effort  to  quiet  him,  and  again 
was  partially  successful. 

"  Where's  Lele  ?"  Ed  next  asked.  "  I  haven't  seen 
her  since  the  day  she  asked  me  to  be  a  Christian.  No 
snakes  in  her  hair  then  —  nothin'  but  curls  !  Tell  her 
I  iconld  go  to  the  Old  Boy  in  spite  of  her.  He  keeps 
me  with  the  snakes  because  he  knows  there's  nothing 
in  all  his  infernal  region  to  kill  'em  with  —  not  even 
a  fence-rail  —  all  burned  up !  Ha  !  Ha !  I  didn't 
thing  hell  could  be  worse  than  farmin',  but  it  actu- 
ally is." 

His  laugh  made  Syd  shudder,  and  when  he  glanced 
over  at  Lele,  he  saw  that  she  was  perfectly  colorless. 

"  Oh,  Syd !  "  she  gasped,  and  he  saw  that  she  was 
about  to  faint. 


340  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

"  Don't  do  that !  "  he  exclaimed  authoritatively. 
"  Come  out  in  the  fresh  air  a  minute  and  you'll  be  all 
right." 

"  I  can't  bear  this,"  said  Lele,  piteously.  "  It  — 
breaks  my  heart." 

"  There  is  so  much  that  we  think  we  can't  endure, 
until  we  must,"  Syd  replied,  as  he  led  her  from  the 
room. 

A  cry  of  thrilling  fear  followed  them.  Lele  turned 
involuntarily  to  go  back,  but  Syd  put  his  hand  on  her 
arm  detainingly. 

"  Don't  go,"  he  said,  hurriedly.  "  His  room  is  no 
fit  place  for  you." 

"  Am  I  too  weak  to  share  your  troubles  ?  "  asked 
Lele. 

"  Any  woman  is  too  weak  to  share  this  kind,"  said 
Syd,  with  emphasis.  And  pushing  her  inside  the  par- 
lor, he  closed  the  door. 

Lele  threw  herself  into  the  old  haircloth  rocker 
which  she  had  occupied  on  the  first  evening  of  her 
visit,  and  wept  without  restraint.  It  was  evening,  and 
the  big  parlor  with  its  heavy  curtains  looked  gloomy 
and  felt  chill.  Lele  was  half-afraid  yet  when  alone 
in  it,  and  when  at  last  she  looked  up  and  saw  that  she 
was  not  alone  she  felt  terrified.  But  it  was  only  Syd, 
come  back  to  beg  her  forgiveness  for  his  arbitrary 
conduct. 

What  would  she  not  forgive  him,  as  he  stood  there 
bending  over  her  slightly,  and  looking  at  her  with  the 
eyes  she  loved  best  in  all  the  world?  She  just  glanced 


PENITENCE.  341 

up  at  him,  but  there  was  no  need  of  words  to  tell  him 
that  he  was  forgiven. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  appear  —  harsh,"  he  said. 

"  I  confess  you  puzzle  me,"  said  Lele,  wistfully. 
"How  is  Ed?" 

"  Better.  I  gave  him  something  to  quiet  him." 
He  did  not  tell  her  what.  "  Don't  mind  me,  Lele.  I 
told  you  at  first  that  you  mus'n't  expect  much  of  me. 
You  must  take  me  for  what  I  seem  to  be  when  we  are 
together,  and  not  think  of  me  at  all  between  times." 

"  Do  you  think  of  me  only  when  we  are  together?" 
Lele  could  not  see  his  kindling  eyes  and  flushed,  pas- 
sionate face ;  he  stood  within  the  shadow  of  the  cur- 
tain. No  answer  came  to  the  question.  Syd  had 
before  shown  an  aptitude  for  ignoring  inconvenient 
questions ;  but  if  she  could  have  known  the  effort  it 
cost  him  to  disregard  this  one,  she  would  have  pitied 
him.  As  it  was,  she  turned  away  almost  in  anger,  and 
left  the  room. 

Five  minutes  later  she  discovered  that  a  letter  from 
Ward,  which  she  had  received,  and  had  not  yet  had 
time  to  read,  was  missing.  Thinking  she  must  have 
dropped  it  in  the  parlor,  she  hastily  retraced  her  steps. 
Syd  was  seated  by  the  window  examining  the  post- 
mark on  the  missing  epistle.  He  put  it  silently  into 
her  hand. 

"Well?"  said  Lele.     "Are  you  angry?" 

"  No ;  I  expected  this.  Ward's  chief  gift  is  a  fac- 
ulty for  letter-writing." 

"  I  don't  care  for  his  letters,"  said  Lele,  petulantly. 


342  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

"  Yes,  you  do.     Girls  always  care  for  them." 

"  I'll  show  you  how  little  I  care  for  this  one,  which 
you  see  I  have  never  read,"  cried  the  impulsive  girl, 
and  tearing  open  the  envelope,  she  let  the  perfumed 
sheets  fall  upon  the  hearth.  Then  striking  a  match, 
she  was  about  to  ignite  the  whole  mass,  when  he 
stopped  her. 

"  Don't,  Lele !  I  think  I  can  guess  the  contents  of 
this  letter  and  what  should  be  the  answer  of  the 
maiden  worldly  wise." 

"  It's  nothing  but  nonsense." 

"  The  fellow  thinks  you're  in  love  with  him." 

"  But  I'm  not,"  said  Lele,  with  burning  cheeks. 

"  With  him  you  could  be  happy,  child.  You  never 
can  be  otherwise  than  miserable  with  —  us." 

He  went  out,  closing  the  door  after  him,  and  she 
took  a  melancholy  satisfaction  in  burning  Ward's  letter 
unread.  She  was  very  angry  with  Syd  for  counting 
her  happiness  so  little  in  comparison  with  her  worldly 

prospects. 

******* 

Notwithstanding  every  effort  to  the  contrary,  Ed 
took  neither  nourishment  nor  medicine  that  night,  and 
the  next  morning  when  Lele  and  Jennie  went  into  his 
room,  they  were  not  only  grieved,  but  shocked  by  his 
death-like  appearance.  Syd  had  had  a  night's  vigil  to 
be  remembered  by  Ed's  bedside. 

"  If  he  would  take  some  nourishment,  he  might 
get  over  this,"  Syd  said,  aside ;  "  but  I  can't  do  any- 
thing with  him." 


PENITENCE.  343 

"  Ed,  do  eat  a  little,"  pleaded  Jennie,  tremulously. 
She  was  so  unaccustomed  to  treat  her  step-brother 
kindly,  that  now  when  she  wished  it,  she  could  scarcely 
force  herself  to  speak  in  a  gentle  tone.  It  was  like 
reviving  a  lost  art. 

Ed  stared  at  her  stupidly,  as  though  not  compre- 
hending who  she  was ;  then,  as  a  gleam  of  recognition 
came  into  his  dull  eyes,  a  bitter,  mocking,  incredulous 
smile  flitted  across  his  lips,  and  turning  his  head,  he 
gazed  blankly  at  the  wall,  as  before.  Jennie  buried  her 
face  in  her  hands  and  went  out  with  Syd,  sobbing  bit- 
terly. Lele  was  left  with  Ed  alone.  She  bent  over 
him  and  laid  her  hand  caressingly  upon  his  brow. 

"  Ed !  " 

The  dull  eyes  lost  their  vacant  stare  as  they  met 
her  tender  gaze. 

"  Don't,  don't  touch  me !  "  he  muttered,  shrinking 
from  her  as  of  old.  "  I've  got  too  low." 

"  No,  no !  "  with  a  strange  thrill  in  her  clear  voice ; 
"  no  one  while  he  lives  can  do  that.  Only  say  you 
repent  and  I  will  pray  God  that  you  be  forgiven  the 
past." 

"  I  can't,  oh,  I  can't !  "  he  reiterated.  "  It's  too 
late.  If  I'd  listened  to  you  sooner,  it  might  have  been 
some  use ;  but  I  can't  begin  now." 

"  You  thought  then  that  it  was  too  late ;  now  you 
see  you  were  mistaken.  Now  is  always  the  accepted 
time.  Ed,  I'm  sure  you  must  be  sorry  for  the  dreadful 
step  you  took  when  you  left  home.  Are  you  not  ?" 

"  Yes ;  I'm  sorry  for  your  sake,"  pressing  her  hand 


344  THE    MAN    WITH    THE   HOF,. 

slightly  with  his  nerveless  fingers.     "  But  I  don't  — 
deserve  that  —  you  will  think  of  me." 

"  I  can't  help  thinking  of  you,  Ed,"  said  Lele,  with 
streaming  eyes.  "  You  must  try  to  live  for  my  sake, 
dear." 

"  I'll  not  get  well.  I  don't  want  to.  I  won't"  he 
cried,  passionately.  "  If  you  drag  me  back  to  life 
again,  you'll  regret  it  as  long  as  you  live.  The  devil 
is  —  right  behind  me  —  pushin'  me  on.  I  can't  go 
right  —  if  I  try." 

"  Oh,  my  poor  boy,"  cried  Lele,  kneeling  by  his 
side ;  "  if  you  should  die  without  a  hope  of  eternal 
peace,  it  would  cast  a  shadow  over  my  whole  life. 
You  know  —  for  I  have  told  you  in  stronger  words 
than  I  dare  use  now  —  how  much,  how  deeply  I  long 
to  see  you  become  a  Christian.  I  can  not  bear  to  let 
you  go  down  to  your  grave  with  a  soul  so  dark  and 
rebellious.  Once  more  I  beseech  you,  dear,  by  all 
that  is  sacred,  by  the  memory  of  your  sainted  mother, 
to  give  your  heart  to  God,  and  ask  him  for  Christ's 
sake  to  forgive  you  and  make  you  one  of  his  chil- 
dren." 

The  sweet  voice,  shaken  by  its  very  intensity  of 
earnestness,  faltered  and  broke. 

As  for  Ed,  something  within  his  soul  seemed  to 
give  way,  and  his  obstinacy  disappeared  like  a  dam 
broken  by  a  mighty  torrent. 

"Before  God,  I  wish  I  could,"  he  said. 

"  God  will  help  you." 

Ed's  cheeks  were  wet  with  tears. 


PENITENCE.  345 

"  Lele,"  he  said,  brokenly,  "  if  you'll  help  me  —  I'll 
try  to  get  —  well, —  and  yes,  I'll  try  —  to  be  a  Chris- 
tian!" 

Lele  cried  for  very  joy.  It  was  such  peace,  such 
deep  joy,  to  know  that  poor,  misguided  Ed  was  on  the 
right  road  at  last.  And  fervently  did  she  thank  God 
that  her  prayers  had  been  answered. 

By  and  by,  when  Ed  had  partaken  of  some  toast 
and  tea,  which  he  ate  with  the  docility  of  a  child,  Lele 
said,  as  she  smoothed  back  his  hair  with  a  caressing 
touch : 

"  Now,  dear,  don't  you  feel  altogether  like  a  dif- 
ferent boy?" 

"  Yes ;  it's  a  strange  feeling,"  said  Ed,  musingly. 
"I  feel  just  this  minute  that  I  don't  hate  anybody  — 
not  even  Jen  an'  father !  It  can't  last,  I'm  afraid. 
Don't  leave  me,  Lele.  I  can  only  feel  good  when  with 
you." 

"  I'll  stay  with  you,  Ed,"  she  replied,  fondly. 
"  You're  getting  to  be  the  brother  I  always  thought 
you  would  become,  some  day." 

He  smiled,  closed  his  eyes,  and  almost  instantly  fell 
into  a  sound  sleep,  the  first  he  had  enjoyed  for  days. 
When  he  awoke,  three  hours  later,  Lele  was  still  at! 
his  bedside.  By  her  side  stood  Jennie,  regarding  him 
with  a  gaze  of  almost  agonized  entreaty.  For  a  mo- 
ment the  old  rebellious  feeling  came  back,  and  Ed 
turned  his  eyes  from  hers  impatiently.  Lele  bent  over 
him,  however,  with  a  radiant  face,  saying: 

"  Here's  Jennie,  Ed.     She's  come  to  ask  your  for- 


346  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

giveness  for  everything  she's  done  to  vex  you.     You 
do  forgive  her,  don't  you  ?" 

He  looked  at  Jennie  a  moment  in  his  old  sullen  way, 
his  lips  so  tightly  closed  that  it  seemed  to  require  more 
will-power  than  he  possessed  to  open  them  in  speech. 
Perhaps  he  would  not  have  spoken,  but  the  impulsive 
girl  sank  on  her  knees  at  his  bedside  and  sobbed  out: 

"  Oh,  Ed,  don't,  don't  say  you  can't  forgive  me. 
I  know  I've  been  harsh  and  unsisterly,  and  that  I've 
never  tried  to  make  you  happy  " — 

"  Never  mind  that,"  muttered  Ed,  as  his  face 
cleared.  "I  —  I  want  you  to  forget  a  good  deal,  too, 
Jennie.  If  I  live,  I  want  to  be  a  better  boy  than  I've 
been.  You  must  help  me.  It's  so  hard  for  me  to  do 
right." 

"I'll  help  you  all  I  can,'  said  Jennie,  humbly.  "And 
I  want  to  be  better,  too.  I've  been  very  miserable," 
she  added,  with  a  long-drawn  sigh.  "  But  I  know 
my  wretched  temper  has  intensified  all  our  troubles, 
and  if  there  is  a  God  in  heaven,  I  hope  he  will  help 
me  conquer  it." 

"  '  If  there  is  a  God  ?'     Jennie,  don't  you  believe 
there  is?"  Ed  asked,  solemnly. 

"  I  suppose  there  is,  and,  yes,  I  hope  there  is.  I 
have  found  life  without  religion  a  bitter,  hopeless  thing. 
If  I  had  as  much  faith  in  God  as  Lele  has,  I  should 
be  a  very  different  being,  and  perhaps  do  other  people 
good  instead  of  harm." 

Hard  as  it  was  for  her  to  make  such  a  confession, 
it  made  her  happy,  and  it  made  her  hearers  happy,  too. 


PENITENCE.  347 

Sycl,  who  had  been  hovering  around  the  door  —  uncer- 
tain whether  to  enter  —  came  in,  and  joining  the  group, 
looked  down  at  Ed,  whose  face  had  lost  its  purple 
flush,  and  was  colorless,  now,  as  the  pillow. 

"  I  want  to  be  better  friends,  too,  Ed,"  he  said, 
huskily. 

Ed  instantly  took  the  hand  he  held  out.  But  the 
next  moment  his  face  clouded. 

"  You'll  not  sneer  at  me  for  tryin'  to  be  religious  ?" 
he  asked. 

"No!"  cried  Syd,  with  emphasis.  "I'm  thinking 
it  wouldn't  hurt  the  rest  of  us  to  be  doing  something 
in  that  line.  Come,  Jinks,"  he  added,  cheerfully, 
"  you  and  Lele  get  this  boy  something  substantial  to 
eat.  He's  hungry." 

From  that  hour  Ed  began  to  convalesce.  Every 
one,  even  the  children,  tried  to  avoid  irritating  him, 
and  his  temper  and  health  rapidly  improved.  But 
when  Mr.  Fairfax  heard  what  had  transpired,  he 
laughed  contemptuously, 

"  Pooh !  I  wouldn't  give  that,"  snapping  his  fingers, 
"  for  Ed's  religion.  He'll  be  right  back  in  the  old 
tracks  as  soon  as  he  is  fairly  able  to  knock  around." 

"  Ah,  father,  whether  you  believe  in  religion  or  not, 
you  must  see  that  there  is  far  more  power  in  love  than 
force.  And  religion  is  but  an  exalted  type  of  love." 

Her  father  gave  her  a  puzzled  glance. 

"  You  have  queer  notions,"  he  said,  and  relapsed 
into  thoughtful  silence. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
A   CRISIS. 

Ed  was  so  much  better  that  the  boys  had  spent 
the  whole  afternoon  in  the  fields.  It  was  the  supper 
hour.  Syd,  as  he  hurried  homeward  through  the 
orchard,  felt  a  sense  of  relief  that  Maud's  piano  was 
still  silent,  and  Ward  yet  miles  away  at  the  camping 
party.  For  a  wonder  none  of  the  stock  had  that  day 
broken  into  anybody's  corn,  and  so  things  looked  a 
trifle  brighter  to  the  anxious,  young  farmer.  Syd  was 
in  a  benignant  mood,  and  meant  to  pass  a  pleasant 
evening  on  the  veranda,  doing  what  he  could  to  confirm 
Ed  in  his  new  resolve,  and  for  once  enjoying  a  broth- 
erly chat  with  Lele. 

As  he  approached  the  pump  to  wash  his  hands,  an 
unwelcome  sound  smote  his  ear :  is  was  Ward  Collins's 
laugh.  Syd  set  the  wash-pan  hard  on  the  pan-stand 
and  turned  his  back  grimly  on  the  parlor  window.  He 
had  been  suckering  tobacco,  and  his  hands  looked  like 
a  negro's.  He  set  his  teeth  and  scrubbed  vigorously 
with  some  soap-weed. 

Ward  at  this  moment  came  to  the  window  and 
waved  a  hand  as  white  and  daintily  manicured  as  a 
girl's,  shouting  in  that  jolly  tone  of  his: 

"  Hello,  Syd !  "  as  in  the  old  days. 

(348) 


A  CRISIS.  349 

"  Hello,  Ward.  Got  back  ?"  Ward  wished  there 
was  a  ring  of  truer  cordiality  in  the  voice.  "  Thought 
you  folks  were  to  be  gone  for  several  clays  yet." 

Syd  glanced  clown  at  his  faded  working  jacket  and 
gummy  trousers  with  a  discomfited  sense  of  the  con- 
trast between  his  appearance  and  Ward's.  The  latter 
certainly  looked  and  acted  the  gentleman. 'and  Syd  was 
bitterly  conscious  that  he  did  not. 

"  I'll  never  be  anything  but  a  dig,"  he  thought,  his 
heart  sinking  with  a  plunge.  "  What  a  mean  shame 
it  would  be  to  expect  her  to  share  such  a  lot  as  mine, 
when  she  might  share  his.  He'll  never^have  to  actually 
wield  the  hoe,  as  I  shall  all  my  days,  probably." 

He  was  hardly  conscious  of  what  reply  Ward  made, 
or  of  anything  that  was  going  on  for  the  next  hour 
or  two.  He  only  knew  that  it  was  Ward  and  not 
he  who  sat  on  the  veranda  in  the  moonlight  and 
talked  to  Lele.  Through  the  hushed  air  of  the  tran- 
quil night  he  could  hear  her  silvery  laughter,  and  it 
struck  on  his  ear  pitilessly  sweet.  Perhaps  it  would 
have  softened  and  cheered  him  a  little  had  he  been 
enjoying  the  veranda  chat  with  the  rest ;  but  from 
his  window  it  only  mocked  him.  At  last  he  went 
down-stairs  and  stood  at  the  side  gate  like  a  grim 
sentinel  until  Ward  went  away.  Unlatching  the  gate, 
he  was  passing  out  in  silence,  piqued  at  Syd's  rude- 
ness, when  the  latter  caught  his  rival's  eye,  and  by  a 
glance  almost  compelled  him  to  stop. 

"  Do  you  want  anything  ?"  Ward  asked. 

"  Only   this  "-  —  Syd   spoke   in   a   strained   voice  — 


35°  THE    MAX    WITH    THE    HOE. 

almost  hoarsely:  "Don't  mind  how  I  act.  I'm  so  out 
of  sorts  with  the  world  this  summer  that  I  can  hardly 
be  civil  to  any  one.  And  I  remember  you  used  to 
regard  me  as  rather  a  decent  fellow  —  above  spite  and 
malice,  at  least." 

"  I  did,  indeed,"  said  Ward,  heartily,  "  and  that's 
why  I've  been  overlooking  your  slights  of  late.  I  know 
it  is  natural  you  shouldn't  like  me  as  well  as  you  once 
did;  but,  Syd,  I  miss  your  friendship  so!  Maud  St. 
John  wasn't  worth  falling  out  over,  was  she?" 

"  We'll  not  discuss  Maud,"  said  Syd    stiffly. 

"  Confess  that  you  see  now  how  shallow  she  is." 

"Well,  and' then?" 

"  I  really  did  you  a  good  turn  in  cutting  you  out !  " 

"  Possibly." 

"  To  be  candid,  Syd,  I  consider  it  a  piece  of  trump- 
ery  weakness  for  two  fellows  to  fall  out  over  such  a 
wax  doll  as  Maud." 

"  That's  merely  because  you  are  tired  of  her.  Are 
you  ever  going  to  settle  down,  or  do  you  purpose  to 
amuse  yourself  with  first  one  woman  and  then  another 
all  your  life?" 

Syd's  tone  was  stern :  it  had  cadences  of  contempt 
in  it  that  stung  Ward,  who  turned  angrily: 

"Syd  McKnight,  what  do  you  mean?  I  never 
seriously  trifled  with  any  girl's  heart  in  my  life." 

"  Indeed ! " 

"  Never  intentionally,"  reiterated  Ward,  thinking 
uneasily  of  Jennie,  and  hoping  Syd  hadn't  heard  of 
their  interview  at  the  stile.  "  But  if  it  will  do  YOU 


A   CRISIS.  351 

any  good  to  know,"  he  added,  in  a  confidential  under- 
tone, "  I  intend  to  settle  down  pretty  soon." 

Syd  knew  Ward  well  enough  to  feel  sure  he  would 
tell  all  about  his  plans  without  questioning.  He  waited 
in  silence,  and  presently  Ward  began : 

"  I  say,  Syd,  your  step-sister  is  a  lovely  girl." 

"  She  is,  indeed,"  coldly. 

"  She's  the  most  interesting  girl  I  ever  saw,"  Ward 
went  on.  "  I  wonder  you  can  be  with  her  so  much 
and  not  half  fall  in  love  with  her  yourself." 

"  She  seems  to  prefer  you,"  Syd  said,  quietly.  "Do 
you  have  any  fancy  for  her?" 

"  Fancy  ?  I'm  distractedly  in  love  with  her,  by 
Jove !  —  over  head  and  ears  !  I  dream  of  her  every 
night,  and  the  day  that  I  can't  be  with  her  seems  like 
two  days.  What  else  do  you  suppose  brought  me 
home  so  soon  ?  The  time  without  Lele  went  so  deuced 
slow  that  I  thought  another  day  of  it  would  finish  me. 
Positively  "— 

"Never  mind!"  said  Syd,  stopping  him.  "I've 
heard  all  that  before,  you  know  —  about  other  girls." 

"  Oh,  but  I  never  was  so  hard  hit  as  I  am  now. 
I'd  die  for  her,"  he  added,  fervently. 

"  I  doubt  it,"  Syd  retorted. 

"  When  I'm  trying  my  best  to  coax  her  to  marry 
me?  I  mean  business  this  time,  old  fellow,  if  ever  a 
man  did." 

Syd  took  hold  of  Ward's  shoulders  with  a  grasp  of 
iron,  and  his  voice  sounded  hard,  too,  when  he  said : 

"  Tell  me  the  truth,  boy,  if  you  ever  did  speak  the 


352  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE. 

truth.  Do  you  love  Lele  Fairfax  enough  to  make  her 
happy  if  she  marries  you?" 

"  Syd,  I  do  honestly."  The  boyish  voice  rang  true, 
at  last,  and  the  blue  eyes  looked  straight  into  Syd's. 
"  I  hope  I  may  die  if  I  ever  cause  her  an  hour's  unhap- 
piness." 

''  I  hope  you  may,"  said  Syd,  unsteadily.  "  I  hope 
to  God  you  may !" 

Ward  at  length  began  to  observe  how  agitated  Syd 
was. 

"  You  don't  want  me  to  marry  her,"  he  said,  sus- 
piciously. 

"  God  knows  I  only  ask  that  she  be  happy  and 
spared  some  of  the  experiences  one  has  to  endure  here," 
said  Syd,  in  a  voice  that  thrilled  with  pain. 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  want  to  see  her  more  com- 
fortably situated.  I  wouldn't  stay  here  myself,  if  I 
were  you,  and  put  up  with  the  things  you  have  to  bear. 
And  as  for  bringing  a  wife  here  —  you  couldn't  think 
of  it,  of  course." 

"  No,  I  couldn't."  said  Syd,  enduring  the  wrench 
of  final  renunciation. 

"  But  if  Lele  will  only  have  me,  I'll  be  the  best  of 
brothers-in-law,"  Ward  added.  "  I  can  help  you.  Syd, 
more  than  you  think." 

"  Thanks.     But  I  don't  expect  to  bother  you  any." 

"  You  an<5  I  are  not  to  be  friends,  then  ?" 

"  Not  enemies,  I  hope." 

"  We  must  be  one  or  the  other.     Won't  YOU  take 


A  CRISIS.  353 

my  hand,  Syd?  I  really  can't  bear  to  let  this  thing 
run  on  much  longer.  Say  we're  friends  again." 

Syd  hesitated  for  a  long  minute.  Then  the  strong 
brown  hand,  calloused  with  scars  of  toil,  clasped  the 
soft  white  hand  of  his  more  fortunate  neighbor. 

"  Be  good  to  her,  Ward,"  was  all  he  could  say. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  Syd.  I'll  be  true  as  steel,  God 
bless  her." 

After  Ward  was  gone,  Syd  went  back  to  his  room. 
The  moonbeams  lay  in  checkered  patterns  on  the  floor 
and  on  his  mother's  picture.  Syd  stood  for  a  long  time 
with  his  elbows  on  the  mantel,  his  head  bowed  on  his 
hands  before  the  portrait,  as  though  it  had  been  a 
shrine. 

"  Oh,  God,  I  can't  bear  this !  "  he  uttered  at  last. 
He  went  out  into  the  hall  and  leaned  over  the  banister, 
to  see  if  he  could  catch  some  drift  of  the  conversation 
between  Lele  and  the  children  on  the  veranda.  He 
could  scarcely  keep  his  feet  from  carrying  him  down- 
stairs. Never  in  his  life  had  he  been  so  famished  for 
a  word  of  tenderness ;  it  seemed  impossible  any  longer 
to  endure  this  starved  existence. 

But  again,  as  in  a  mirror,  he  saw  his  conduct  as 
others  would,  or  did,  see  it. 

"  The  Fairfaxes,"  the  gossips  would  say,  "  were 
about  to  be  sold  out  by  the  sheriff,  when  a  match  was 
hastily  contrived  between  Ome's  eldest  daughter  and 
his  step-son,  and  her  money  was  used  in  paying  off  the 
mortgage.  Lucky  dog  —  Syd.  Always  had  an  eye 
for  the  main  chance.  But  rather  hard  lines  on  pretty 

(23) 


354  THE  MAN  WITH  THE;  HOE. 

Lele,  whose  beauty  soon  faded  when  she  took  the 
tread-mill  work  of  a  hard-tip  farmer's  wife." 

"  Oh,  what  a  fate  that  would  be  for  a  cultured  girl 
like  Lele !  "  he  groaned.  "  To  come  here  and  slave  her 
life  out  as  my  poor  mother  did,  when  she  might  other- 
wise have  all  the  advantages  of  travel  and  society. 
This  narrow,  monotonous  life  would  kill  her." 

It  did  not  make  it  seem  more  nearly  right  to  know 
that  every  member  of  the  family  desired  it,  and  that 
even  Lele  herself  seemed  to  prefer  him.  It  must 
never  be. 

Syd  thought  it  quite  likely  that  Mr.  Fairfax  would 
soon  urge  the  matter  upon  Lele.  And,  in  fact,  the 
very  thing  he  apprehended  came  to  pass  an  evening  or 
two  later. 

Lele  and  her  father  were  walking  in  the  orchard 
toward  sunset,  and  after  a  good  deal  of  chat  of  no 
special  importance,  the  latter  remarked  in  an  off-hand 
way,  as  though  the  subject  were  a  new  one  and  had 
not  been  weighing  on  his  mind  somewhat  heavily  for 
weeks  past: 

"  Lelia,  there  is  a  certain  subject  which  it  is  my 
duty  as  a  father  to  discuss  with  you ;  namely,  your 
future." 

He  lit  an  expensive  cigar,  took  two  or  three  puffs 
with  evident  enjoyment,  and  then  resumed: 

"  You  have  now  arrived  at  the  age  when  most  girls 
expect  to  marry,  and  secure  that  enviable  position  in 
society  which  matrimony  alone  has  power  to  bestow 
upon  a  woman.  You  are  already,  I  believe,  on  the 


A  CRISIS.  •  355 

verge  of  completing  your  twentieth  year.  Your  hon- 
ored mother  became  my  wife  at  the  age  of  nineteen." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Lele,  painfully  embarrassed. 

"  Being  fond  of  society  and  possessing  considerable 
beauty,  not  to  add  —  accomplishments,"  Mr.  Fairfax 
went  on,  as  if  beginning  a  speech  in  court,  "  you  will 
probably  marry  before  the  lapse  of  another  year." 

"  Oh,  no !  "  cried  Lele,  and  her  cheeks  flamed  and 
paled  by  turns. 

"It  is  desirable  that  you  should.  A  woman  of 
your  age  is  old  enough  to  be  settled  in  a  home  of  your 
own,  and  the  longer  she  delays  the  less  likelihood  has 
she  of  making  a  good  match  —  from  a  worldly  point 
of  view." 

"  I  never  expect  to  do  that,"  said  Lele. 

"Very  few  romantic  school  girls  do.  If  they  did, 
there  would  be  fewer  divorce  suits.  Love  is  a  flame 
that  burns  itself  out  in  a  very  short  time,  I  can  tell 
you." 

"  It  seems  to  be  that  true  love  is  forever,"  said  the 
young  girl,  with  quivering  lips.  "  It  will  be  with  me, 
I  know,"  she  added,  almost  inaudibly. 

Mr.  Fairfax  set  this  -reply  down  as  too  weak  and 
womanish  to  require  notice. 

"  If  you  remain  at  home,"  he  went  on,  "  which  I 
trust  you  will  —  though  I  do  not  urge  it  upon  you 
to  forego  the  chances  of  a  good  settlement  in  life  which 
a  residence  with  your  friends,  the  Carpenters,  would 
give — yon  can  not  but  see  that  your  opportunities  will 
be  somewhat  limited." 


356  •    THE    -MAX    WITH    THE    HOE. 

Mr.  Fairfax  indulged  in  a  few  more  fragrant  whiffs 
with  unabated  enjoyment. 

"  There  is  scarcely  a  youth  in  the  community  that 
I  would  wish  you  to  marry,"  he  proceeded :  "  not  one 
that  would  be  able  to  offer  you  a  comfortable  home, 
except  that  boy  of  Si  Collins's ;  and  though  he's  a  good- 
hearted  fellow  and  may  settle  down  to  be  something 
of  a  man,  I  believe  you  can  do  better." 

Here  he  made  a  very  impressive  pause. 

"  I  don't  deny  that  he  has  asked  me  for  your  hand. 
What  answer  must  I  give?" 

"To  Ward  Collins?  A  positive  refusal!"  ex- 
claimed Lele. 

"  Well,  I  expected  that  you  would  prefer  one  with 
more  stamina,  more  force  of  character,  more  industry. 
Now  if  you  had  not  been  accustomed  to  regard  Sydney 
McKnight  as  your  brother,  I  should  not  hesitate  to 
recommend  him  as  a  suitable  husband  for  you." 

"  Syd !  "  faltered  Lele,  and  the  throbbing  of  her 
heart  sent  the  roses  from  her  cheeks.  After  all,  it 
might  have  been  a  preconcerted  scheme  between  them ! 

"  Yes,  Syd,"  said  Mr.  Fairfax,  with  emphasis.  "  In 
most  respects  you  couldn't  do  better.  He  is  honorable, 
moral,  temperate,  industrious,  energetic,  unflinchingly 
true  to  principle." 

"  You  think  it  our  duty  to  marry  whether  we  love 
each  other  or  not?"  asked  Lele,  with  downcast  eyes. 

"  I  am  very  far  from  urging  a  match  so  advan- 
tageous to  myself,  and  to  every  member  of  the  fam- 
ily," replied  Mr.  Fairfax,  loftily ;  "  for,  if  you  marry 


A  CRISIS.  357 

my  step-son  (who  is  in  no  way  related  to  you),  I  am 
aware  that  your  fortune  would  come  into  our  family 
at  a  most  opportune  time.  At  a  time,  indeed,  when 
ruin  stares  us  in  the  face,  and  only  such  an  event  could 
save  us  all  from  being  turned  out  of  house  j.nd  home." 

Here  a  short  turn  in  the  path  brought  them  face  to 
face  with  Syd,  who  had  evidently  heard  a  part,  if  not 
all,  of  Mr.  Fairfax's  argument  in  his  behalf,  and 
seemed  in  nowise  grateful  for  the  same.  His  eyes 
burned  like  live  coals,  and  seemed  literally  to  light 
up  his  whole  face,  which  was  perfectly  colorless  with 
anger. 

"  In  heaven's  name,  what  are  you  talking  about  ?" 
he  cried,  in  a  voice  of  mingled  shame  and  rage. 
Mr.  Fairfax  stood  speechless. 

"  I  had  expected  this,  and  yet  I  felt  that  even  you 
could  hardly  descend  to  it !  "  cried  Syd.  "  You  tricked 
my  mother  into  marrying  you  in  order  to  get  posses- 
sion of  what  little  money  she  had,  and  now  you  would 
induce  your  daughter  to  let  herself  be  robbed  in  a 
similar  way !  " 

"  Nonsense !  Visionary,  wicked,  insulting  non- 
sense!" cried  Mr.  Fairfax,  explosively. 

"  My  mother  put  what  money  she  had  in  this  farm 
and  became  your  bond-slave,  Mr.  Fairfax.  We  had 
the  best  mother  on  earth,  and  everything  that  we 
really  needed  to  make  us  happy,  except  a  father's  love. 
You  never  gave  us  that.  Now  we  have  nothing  We 
have  lost  what  little  patrimony  should  have  come  to 
us ;  we  have  lost  our  mother ;  we  have  lost  heart  and 


358  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

hope.  And  now  you  ask  another  woman  to  put  her 
money  and  life  into  this  farm,  and  see  both  frittered 
away,  as  they  would  if  you  retained  control.  You  fet- 
tered my  mother  to  a  life  of  unceasing  care,  toil  and 
worry,  brightened  by  no  love  on  your  part ;  and  now 
you  have  the  cheek  to  urge  a  loveless  marriage  upon 
your  daughter  as  a  cloak  for  securing  more  funds  to 
sink  in  what  you  are  fond  of  styling  the  '  fine  old 
Fairfax  homestead.'  " 

"  This  language,  sir,  is  extraordinary."  said  Mr. 
Fairfax,  haughtily,  while  Lele  stood  gazing  at  Syd  in 
amazed,  shocked  silence.  "  It  is  extraordinary,  I 
repeat,  not  only  from  the  blind  folly  it  betrays,  (for 
your  scruples,  young  man,  are  nothing  more  than  a 
fool's  scruples,  that  have  crept  into  a  head  normally 
sensible  enough,)  but  is  extraordinary  from  the  amount 
of  disrespect  and  ingratitude  it  shows  to  me,  who  have 
been  a  father  to  you  for  nearly  seventeen  years,  and 
have  treated  you  in  most  respects  better  than  I  did  my 
own  children." 

"  Better !  Great  Heavens !  How  have  you  treated 
me?"  cried  Syd,  wrought  to  madness  by  long  pent-up 
resentment.  "  What  have  you  given  me  or  done  for 
me?  I've  worked  ever  since  I  was  ten  years  old  — 
always  beyond  my  strength.  I  never  knew  a  time 
when  there  was  not  more  depending  upon  me  than  I 
could  possibly  do  or  get  done.  You  never  gave  me 
a  chance  to  make  a  penny  for  myself,  and  I  stand  no\v 
before  this  girl,  to  whom  you  are  recommending  me 
as  a  suitable  match,  without  a  penny  in  the  world  to 


A  CRISIS.  359 

call  my  own !  And  I  blush  with  shame,  as  any  man 
would,  when  I  oun  it." 

Syd  thrilled  painfully  with  a  consciousness  of  his 
utter  insignificance.  And  he  did  so  long  to  be  looked 
up  to  and  regarded  as  an  important  factor  in  the  world. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  he  should  go  raving  mad  if  com- 
pelled to  endure  much  more  of  the  dwarfing  process 
to  which  he  had  been  subjected. 

"  Every  penny  I've  ever  made  has  gone  toward 
keeping  a  roof  over  our  heads,"  he  went  on,  "  and 
now,  because  you  think  Collins  wants  to  foreclose,  you 
try  to  persuade  Lele  that  it's  her  Christian  duty  to 
marry  me,  so  you  can  rob  her  of  the  money  her  aunt 
thought  she  had  placed  beyond  your  reach.  I  tell  you 
both,"  he  glanced  at  Lele  for  the  first  time, '"that  that 
question  is  forever  settled.  /  won't  be  a  party  to  any 
such  robbery.  And  as  for  the  rest  —  this  kind  of  exist- 
ence —  I  don't  call  it  life  —  has  got  to  come  to  an  end 
some  time,  and  it  might  as  well  be  the  middle  of  Sep- 
tember as  not.  I've  worked  like  a  man  to  save  the 
place,  and  if  you,  sir,  had  helped,  instead  of  hindering, 
it  wouldn't  now  be  ready  to  be  sold  under  the  hammer. 
As  for  saving  it  with  Lele's  money,  /'//  never  marry 
a  girl  to  defraud  her  of  a  few  thousand  dollars  and 
doom  her  to  a  life  of  drudgery  and  discouragement, 
as  you  did  mamma.  Neither  will  I  work  any  longer 
under  you  as  your  unpaid  overseer.  Hereafter  I  shall 
work  my  own  farm  or  none,  for  in  a  few  days  I  shall 
be  of  age  !  " 

Without  giving  either  of  them  time  to  reply,  he 


360  THE    MAN    WITH    THJi    HOhJ. 

turned  short  round  and  walked  away  toward  the  barn 
with  long,  swift  strides. 

Mr.  Fairfax  was  utterly  crushed.  He  realized 
clearly  for  the  first  time  what  chaos  he  had  made  of 
his  affairs;  how  the  old  homestead  was  at  last  to  he 
wrenched  from  the  family  of  Fairfax,  its  owners  from 
time  immemorial,  and  submitted  to  the  disgrace  of  a 
sheriff's  sale.  He  had  never  anticipated  this,  even  in 
his  gloomiest  moments,  but  had  firmly  believed  that 
something  would  turn  up  at  the  last  moment  to  avert 
such  a  crisis.  How  abominable  was  this  conduct  of 
his  step-son,  who  had  it  in  his  power  to  prevent  any 
immediate  disaster  to  the  estate!  True,  the  boy  was 
right.  He  had  been  wronged — unintentionally,  accord- 
ing to  the  best  of  Mr.  F.'s  belief.  He  had,  of  course, 
suffered  some  hardships  —  most  of  the  family  had. 
Moreover,  Syd's  patient  way  of  submitting  to  them 
had  given  his  step-father  an  entirely  wrong  idea  of 
their  effect. 

Mr.  Fairfax  felt  ashamed,  after  such  a  scene,  to 
look  his  daughter  in  the  face,  and  was  glad  to  find, 
when  he  had  picked  himself  up  from  the  moral  heap 
into  which  he  had  been  thrown,  that  she  had  vanished 
somewhere.  He  returned  to  the  house  dejected, 
amazed,  hopeless.  It  was  a  new  thing  under  the  sun 
for  Syd  to  turn  and  rend  him  thus ;  he  felt  powerless 
to  defend  himself,  and  knew  not  whither  to  turn  for 
help.  For  years  he  had  been  shifting  the  family  bur- 
dens to  Syd's  shoulders,  and  in  this  last  crisis  he  had 
been  sure  of  his  step-son's  aid.  The  mortgage  had 


A   CRISIS.  3d 

been  in  his  mind  when  he  invited  Lele  home.  And  it 
had  very  soon  occurred  to  him  that  a  marriage  between 
her  and  his  step-son  would  be  a  most  fortunate  occur- 
rence. Providence,  for  a  time,  had  seemed  to  smile 
upon  his  plans.  But  alas  for  the  "  schemes  of  mice 
and  men  " ! 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 
"  UNDER  GREEN  APPLE  BOUGHS." 

Lele  had  made  her  escape  to  Jen's  favorite  old 
apple-tree,  where  some  gnarled,  low  branches  formed 
a  sort  of  sylvan  throne. 

Here  in  leafy  solitude  she  sat  —  downcast,  flushed, 
humiliated,  exquisitely  miserable  —  her  arm  resting 
upon  an  overhanging  bough,  with  her  face  pressed 
against  it,  as  wretched  for  the  time  as  poor  Jen  in 
her  saddest  musings.  Faint  with  contending  emo- 
tions, for  a  time  thought  was  chaos.  Not  a  word  could 
her  mind  shape.  Nothing  crystallized  within  it  but 
flashes  of  shame,  disappointment  and  despair  as  the 
whole  period  of  her  visit  passed  before  her  in  imagina- 
tion. Again  she  saw  Syd  in  all  his  phases  —  tender, 
harsh,  kind,  curt,  brother-like,  cousin-like  —  but  was 
he  ever  absolutely  lover-like? 

No.  Syd  had  never  loved  her.  His  reference  to 
a  "  loveless  marriage  "  proved  that.  And  why,  with 
it  all,  had  he  fascinated  her  so? 

A  hundred  times  she  had  told  herself  that  she  would 
hoe  row  about  with  Syd  in  the  fields  lather  than  live 
in  luxury  with  any  other  man. 

"  And  to  think  what  a  blind,  sentimental  fool  I 
have  been !  Syd  doesn't  care  for  me  at  all  —  never  did 

(362) 


"UNDER   GREEN    APPLE   BOUGHS."  363 

—  never  can  —  not  even  well  enough  to  marry  me, 
though  he  knows  it  is  the  only  way  to  save  our  home 
from  destruction  !  "  were  the  taunting  words  that  finally 
formed  in  her  mind.  "  I  wish  I  could  die.  Oh,  I 
do  zvish  I  could  die !  " 

Large  tears  splashed  on  the  dead  leaves  below. 

Then  the  grotesque  side  of  the  whole  affair  began 
to  dawn  upon  her,  as  she  pictured  her  father  standing 
there,  gravely  urging  her  to  lay  her  hand  and  fortune 
at  her  step-son's  feet ;  her  confused  demurring ;  Syd's 
natural  fury  at  the  humiliating  position  in  which  he 
was  placed,  and  the  tableau  they  all  three  made  during 
Syd's  excited  harangue.  The  memory  of  her  father's 
chagrined,  scandalized  visage  was  too  much  for  her 
risibles ;  but  Syd's  unmistakable  rejection  of  the  hand 
offered  by  her  father,  and  the  gloom  it  entailed,  each 
time  she  mentally  viewed  it,  brought  forth  fresh  sobs. 

So  the  evening  hour  passed  in  the  quiet  orchard. 
How  loudly  the  katydids  sang  in  the  meadow  adjacent ; 
in  the  distant  pond  the  frogs,  hidden  among  the  cala- 
mus leaves,  began  to  croak.  She  could  hear  Jennie's 
clear  voice  calling  the  cowrs  in  the  pasture  below  the 
barn. 

"Sook,  Brindle!  Sook,  Bess!  Sook!  Sook!  So' 
cow!" 

The  sun  had  set,  and  from  the  hills  the  sunset  light 
was  fading ;  under  the  apple-trees  were  shadows  long 
and  dim.  Lele  grown  calmer,  if  not  happier,  descended 
from  her  sylvan  retreat,  and  went,  by  the  barnyard, 
down  throusfh  the  grassv  lane  to  the  house.  She  took 


364  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

this  route  in  order  to  avoid  meeting  any  of  the  family, 
lest  her  flushed,  tear-stained  face  and  sadly-tumbled 
hair  should  invite  questions,  which  she  was  ill-prepared 
to  answer.  To  her  dismay,  she  came  unexpectedly 
upon  Ward  Collins  at  the  little  gate.  He  had  called 
to  ask  her  to  take  a  drive.  Wasn't  she  staying  in  the 
house  too  much  since  Ed  was  sick  ? 

Lele  begged  to  be  excused,  saying  it  was  impossible 
for  her  to  go  that  evening.  She  could  not  conceal  the 
fact  that  she  had  been  crying,  and  Ward  looked  dis- 
tressed. 

"  You  are  in  trouble,"  he  said,  gently.  "  Is  it  any- 
thing I  can  share?" 

Lele  shook  her  head  and  tried  to  force  back  the 
tears. 

"  I  would  give  ten  years  of  my  life  to  be  of  use  to 
you,  if  you  would  only  let  me,"  said  Ward,  wistfully. 

"  I  couldn't  think  of  allowing  it,"  said  Lele,  making 
a  sorry  attempt  at  laughter. 

"You're  just  homesick,  perhaps,"  said  Ward,  with 
tender  sympathy.  "  I  know  a  sovereign  remedy  for  it. 
May  I  administer  it?"  He  bent  over  her,  at  once 
laughing  and  earnest.  "  Oh,  Lele !  to  think  of  a  home 
with  you  in  it.  What  are  these  people  thinking  of  to 
let  you  cry  when  you  ought  to  be  so  happy?" 

This  was  very  soothing,  coming,  as  it  did,  on  the 
heels  of  the  torturing  scene  in  the  orchard.  Lele  was 
almost  piqued  into  accepting  Ward  then  and  there. 

"  Sycl  has  made  any  love  between  him  and  me 
impossible  forever,"  she  thought,  "  and  he  has  often 


"UNDER  GREEN  APPLE  BOUGHS."  365 

advised  me  to  marry  Ward.  Why  not?"  But  when 
Ward's  arm  would  have  clasped  her  waist,  she  repelled 
him. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Fairfax,"  Ward  said, 
humbly. 

"  Don't  mind.  I'm  not  in  a  sentimental  mood  this 
evening,"  said  Lele,  in  a  tone  of  apology. 

"  You  never  are.  I  wish  you  were  —  some  time. 
And  I  wish  I  could  be  of  use  to  you  in  some  way." 

"  Thank  you,  Ward,"  the  low  voice  uttered  tremu- 
lously. 

Ward's  heart  leaped  when  she  pronounced  his 
name.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  left  off  the 
prefix,  and  it  gave  him  a  certain  sense  of  security  in 
her  esteem  that  he  had  never  before  experienced. 

"  Will  you  come  in  ?"  she  added,  with  rather  faint- 
hearted hospitality. 

"  Not  this  evening.     Some  other  eve,  if  agreeable." 

"  To-morrow,  then."  She  gave  him  her  hand, 
which  he  almost  forgot  to  release.  "  Good-night, 
Ward." 

"  Good-night,  Lele.  May  good  fairies  steal  your 
tears,  and  make  you  the  happiest  girl  in  the  world  — 
as  you  are  the  sweetest." 

There  was  a  tremor  in  the  boyish  voice.  His  whole 
manner  was  tinged  with  a  winsome  tenderness.  Lele 
wondered,  as  she  left  him,  why  it  is  so  much  easier  to 
love  a  man  who  doesn't  care  two  straws  about  you,  than 
it  is  to  care  for  one  whose  sole  delight  would  be  in 
inventing  new  ways  of  showing  that  he  adores  you. 


366  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

She  entered  Jennie's  room,  where  she  always  slept 
now,  and  involuntarily  sat  down  on  the  foot  of  Tude's 
bed,  which  was  near  the  back  window ;  leaning  her 
head  wearily  against  the  wall,  she  uttered  a  little  shud- 
dering sigh,  and  sat  listlessly  gazing  through  the  win- 
dow, her  hands  lying  passive  in  her  lap,  palm  upward, 
one  within  the  other,  in  an  attitude  characteristic  of 
Lele  in  moments  of  despondency,  but  impossible  with 
one  of  Jen's  fiery  temperament. 

"  After  all,"  she  mused,  sadly,  "  the  farm  will 
have  to  be  sold.  For  if  Syd  goes  away,  as  I  suppose 
he  will,  the  farm  must  go,  that  is  certain.  What  can 
I  do  ?  Nothing  —  at  least  of  any  consequence  —  and 
it  breaks  my  heart  to  think  of  all  that  will  happen ;  the 
scattered,  homesick  family ;  the  sad,  uncertain  future. 
And  Syd  gone  " —  Lele's  handkerchief  was  wet  with 
tears  already.  She  rummaged  for  another. 

Down-stairs  all  had  been  silent  as  the  grave;  but 
now  Syd  emerged  from  the  dining-room  door,  and 
advancing  to  the  edge  of  the  porch,  leaned  dejectedly 
against  one  of  the  pillars,  while  glancing,  by  the  aid 
of  a  match,  over  a  letter  in  the  dim  twilight.  Lele's 
heart  leaped  and  the  hot  blood  surged  into  her  cheeks 
as  she  watched  him.  What  a  "  bonnie  lad  "  Syd  was 
— •  so  tall,  so  strong,  so  proud,  so  true  to  what  he 
thought  the  right  course.  Her  whole  future  was  in 
eclipse,  because  this  broad-shouldered  fellow,  who 
could  be  so  harsh  and  so  gentle,  so  cool  and  so  impas- 
sioned, worshiped  his  pride  more  than  he  did  her. 

"  Oh,  if  Providence  had  willed  that  our  pathway 


UNDER   GREEN    AfPLE  BOUGHS."  367 


through  life  should  be  the  same,"  she  reflected,  miser- 
ably. "  What  will  life  be  worth  without  him  ?  Had 
I  as  many  lovers  as  Mary  Tudor,  I  would  give  them 
all  for  one  word  of  tenderness  from  him." 

She  felt  a  mad  impulse  to  run  down-stairs  and  tell 
him  that  his  hateful  pride  was  breaking  her  heart; 
but  wisely  desisted.  Closing  her  eyes,  she  tried  desper- 
ately to  reason  herself  into  a  more  rational  mood. 

Voices  roused  her  and  drew  her  gaze  downward 
again.  Jennie  was  talking  with  Syd. 

"  Could  you  endure  life  in  Dakota?"  she  heard  him 
ask.  "  I  think  seriously  of  emigrating." 

"  I  don't  know,  Syd.  It's  so  cold  there  !  People 
die  in  blizzards  right  in  sight  of  home.  Do  you  really 
think  we'll  have  to  give  up  the  farm,  after  all?" 

"  Yes,  I  do.  This  life  is  killing  us  both,  Jinsey. 
There  must  be  a  change."  Syd  gave  a  sigh  that  was 
almost  a  groan.  A  chord  in  Lele's  heart  vibrated 
to  it. 

Jennie  stood  looking  at  him,  perplexed  and  mis- 
erable. 

"  I  don't  know  what  we're  to  do,  Syd,  if  you  give 
up,"  she  said,  wistfully.  "  Have  you  and  father  quar- 
reled?" 

"  Yes,  we've  quarreled  !  "  cried  Syd,  passionately. 
"  It  seems  to  me  now  that  my  resentment  against  him 
and  his  slipshod,  selfish  ways  has  been  growing  every 
day  since  I  knew  him,  and  this  evening  it  burst"  all 
bounds.  I  have  tried  to  be  respectful  to  the  man  my 
mother  once  loved  and  honored  ;  tried  to  keep  up  a  sem- 


368  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

blance  of  gratitude  for  the  galling  bondage  I've  been 
forced  to  endure  here ;  but  I  can  never  feel  one 
shadow  of  respect  for  the  man  again." 

"  What  in  the  world  has  he  done  ?" 

"  What  do  you  suppose  ?  He  wants  next  to  set 
his  affairs  straight  by  forcing  Lele  to  marry  me !  " 

Lele  had  listened  unthinkingly  up  to  this  point.  But 
as  the  last  sentence  was  uttered  she  sprang  up  and  hur- 
riedly left  the  room,  her  cheeks  and  ears  fairly  tin- 
gling. What  if  he  should  tell  Jennie  that  he  had  never 
even  dreamed  of  falling  in  love  with  his  too-susceptible 
step-sister  ?  Ah !  if  she  could  have  known  what  fol- 
lowed ! 

"  You  would  be  a  fool  to  object  to  that  arrange- 
ment," said  Jennie,  shortly. 

'"  Oh,  Jean,  how  can  you  say  that  ?"  cried  Syd, 
whose  face  and  eyes  were  aglow  with  shame. "  "  Do 
you  think  that  if  I  and  every  member  of  this  family 
were  to  be  thrown  on  the  county  for  support,  and  I 
could  prevent  it  by  just  asking  Lele  to  marry  me,  that 
I'd  doit?" 

"  I  thought  you  liked  her  ?" 

"  Liked  her !"  echoed  Syd,  with  an  indescribable 
accent.  "  The  more  I  like  her,  the  less  I  am  willing 
to  see  her  throw  herself  away.  I  believe  she  is  quite 
capable  of  marrying  me  from  a  sense  of  duty.  Women 
delight  in  making  foolish  sacrifices.  I  look  yet  for  you 
to  make  a  sudden  resolve  to  marry  old  Bill  Markley." 

"  Would  you  advise  it  ?" 

"  No,  by  thunder,  I  wouldn't.     And  if  you  were 


"  UNDER   GREEN    APPLE   BOUGHS."  369 

in  Lele's  place,  and  a  man  in  mine  were  unscrupulous 
enough  to  want  to  marry  you  and  sink  what  little 
money  you  had  in  a  place  like  this,  I'd  take  pleasure  in 
kicking  him  as  far  as  from  here  to  the  big  road." 

"  How  did  Lele  seem  to  take  what  you  said  to  her 
father?"  Jennie  asked. 

"  I  don't  know.     I  never  looked  at  her  but  once." 

"Were  you  very  rude?" 

"  Horribly.     I  wish  she  had  not  been  present." 

"  Ward  is  out  at  the  gate  now  talking  to  her,"  said 
Jennie. 

"  Then  she'll  come  in  engaged.  Ward  wants  to 
marry  her,  and  I  think  has  asked  Mr.  Fairfax's  con- 
sent. It  wouldn't  be  in  human  nature  for  her  to  refuse 
a  fellow  like  Ward  just  after  such  a  scene  as  I  made 
in  the  orchard." 

He  felt  that  he  deserved  this.  A  maddening  sense 
of  regret  seized  him. 

"  I  hardly  think,  after  all,  that  she  will  ever  marry 
him,"  said  Jennie. 

"Yes,  she  will.  It's  decreed."  He  walked  impa- 
tiently up  and  down  the  porch.  Then  he  burst  out: 

"  Jen,  if  you  say  so,  we'll  quit  this  dead  and  alive 
business  and  go  West  right  off.  There's  nothing  but 
misery  here  for  either  you  or  me.  Let's  take  up  a 
claim.  I  can  borrow  a  little  money  —  enough  to  keep 
us  from  starving,  until  we  get  a  start,  if  there's  any 
chance  for  such  as  us  this  side  of  eternity." 

"  Is  that  the  last  resort  ?" 

"  I  had  thought  of  something  else,  but  if  she  —  T 

(24) 


37O  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HCE. 

don't  think  I  should  care  to  stay  here  under  any  cir- 
cumstances, and  perhaps  you  wouldn't,  either." 

"  After  they  are  married,  he  means,"  thought 
Jennie. 

"  Will  you  go  ?"  he  repeated. 

"  I  can't  desert  Tude  and  Cora,  Syd." 

"  I'll  take  you  three  girls,  and  let  Mr.  Fairfax  look 
after  the  boys." 

"Oh,  Syd!  Leave  Clem  and  Charlie  to  his  care. 
You  know  what  kind  of  raising  they'd  get,"  said 
Jennie,  with  wet  lashes. 

"  They  keep  you  mad  half  the  time,  Jinsey." 

"  Yes,  but  the  house  would  be  dead  without  them. 
And,  besides,  I've  been  miserably  wrong  in  my  attitude 
toward  the  boys  of  the  family,  Syd.  I  do  so  long  for 
a  chance  to  redeem  myself  in  that." 

"  I  couldn't  take  them  without  their  father's  con- 
sent, and  you  know  what  a  fad  he  has  for  sticking  to 
his  lawful  rights.  It  would  have  been  money  in  his 
pocket  to  let  Ed  go  two  or  three  years  ago ;  but  he 
wouldn't." 

"  It  would  break  my  heart  to  have  the  family  scat- 
tered east  and  west,  as  so  many  families  are.  It  is 
cruel  to  be  placed  in  such  a  position,"  cried  Jennie,  very 
bitterly.  "  Syd,  I'm  the  most  miserable  girl  in  the 
world." 

"  You  haven't  a  very  comprehensive  idea  of  human 
wretchedness.  Jinsey.  You  might  be  really  worse  off 
than  you  are.  I  can  tell  you." 

"  I  don't  see  how,"  said  rebellious  Jennie. 


"  UNDER   GREEN    APPLE   BOUGHS.  3/1 

"  You  arc  a  self-respecting  young  woman." 

"  Of  course."  Jean  stared  at  him  through  the  dusk, 
but  could  catch  but  a  dim  outline  of  his  features. 

"You  wouldn't  be  if  you  had  consented  to  meet 
Ward  Collins  every  evening  at  the  stile  in  the  hill 
pasture." 

Jennie  was  thunder-struck. 

"  How  do  you  know  anything  about  it  ?"  she  fal- 
tered. 

"  I  happened  along  on  a  fence-fixing  expedition, 
as  usual.  Some  of  our  hogs  had  been  getting  through 
a  hole  in  the  hedge.  You  were  both  too  excited  t:> 
notice  me." 

"  And  you  heard  " — 

"  Not  a  word;  but  I  could  guess  a  good  deal.  If 
you  had  not  concluded  the  interview  as  you  did,  I 
should  have  pitched  Ward  over  the  hedge  into  the 
hollow." 

"  I  did  what  I  thought  was  right,"  said  Jennie, 
proudly. 

"  Of  course.  I  honor  you  for  it,  Jinsey.  About 
nineteen  girls  out  of  twenty  would  have  made  the 
greatest  mistake  of  their  lives  then." 

"  Perhaps  I  did,"  said  Jennie,  almost  inaudibly.  "  I 
might  have  made  him  care  for  me  —  and  respect  me, 
too." 

"  Never  believe  it  for  a  moment,  Jinsey.  Ward  is 
too  weak  to  resist  the  faintest  shadow  of  a  temptation. 
A  girl  who  consents  to  a  clandestine  interview  admits 
a  pitiful  lack  of  self-respect  and  prudence,"  he  added. 


3/2  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

"  You  and  I  are  both  a  hundred  times  better  off  at 
this  time  than  we  would  be  in  some  circumstances 
which  we  can  imagine.  We  have  stood  by  our  prin- 
ciples, and  can  at  best  go  down  to  defeat  with  clear 
consciences." 

"  Yes,  we  can,"  said  Jennie,  most  hopefully.  "  I 
never  thought  of  that.  I  have  often  regretted  treating 
Ward  as  I  did  that  evening,  but  I  never  shall  again. 
Thank  you,  Syd ;  I  believe  it  was  your  presence  that 
helped  nie  to  do  right  that  day." 

"  No,  it  was  the  result  of  our  mother's  training 
.Don't  you  remember  how  she  taught  us  always  to 
be  guided  by  principle  in  everything,  and  never  to  let 
any  mere  thought  of  what  would  be  for  our  happiness 
outweigh  it?" 

"  It  makes  life  hard  to  be  always  weighing  conse- 
quences beforehand." 

"  Not  so  hard  as  to  be  compelled  to  weigh  them 
afterward,"  said  Syd,  significantly.  "  I  never  look  at 
my  mother's  picture  without  thinking  of  one  of  her 
favorite  maxims  —  '  One  must  keep  one's  honor  bright, 
no  matter  what  else  is  tarnished.' ' 

"  I  often  think  of  that,  too,"  said  Jennie,  sighing. 
"  But  though  I  can  do  right  in  great  things,  the  little 
whips  and  stings  of  daily  life  are  too  many  for  me. 
I  am  so  irritable,  so  rebellious  against  Fate,  so  full 
of  longing  for  better  things,  that  I  feel  at  times  as 
though  something  was  tearing  me  to  pieces,  body  and 
soul.  I  crave  the  good  things  of  life  worse  than  Ed 
at  his  worst  ever  craved  liquor,  and  I  don't  see  why 


UNDIiR    GRliUN    APPMC   BOUGHS.  373 

they  are  all  denied  —  fame  and  friends  and  wealth  and 
happiness." 

"  No  more  do  I.  But  I  don't  choose  to  barter  my 
soul,  or  my  sacred  honor,  or  even  the  respect  of  my 
neighbors,  for  the  least  one  of  them,"  Syd  replied. 

"  I  wouldn't  let  the  opinion  of  a  man  like  old 
Heldt  "— 

"  Yes,  you  would  !  "  Syd  interrupted.  "  I  wouldn't 
have  known  just  how  the  neighborhood  " — 

He  sighed  deeply,  and  sat  down  again  with  his  ach- 
ing head  resting  on  his  hands. 

"  Is  going  West  the  only  thing  you  have  thought 
of?"  Jennie  asked,  presently.  "If  you  don't  want  to 
stay  here." 

"  Yes,  as  yet.  I'm  not  sure  it's  the  best  plan.  It 
will,  after  all,  be  necessary  to  wait  and  see  Mr.  Fair- 
fax through  his  troubles  with  old  Si.  I  owe  him  that 
much,  surely.  But  we  must  be  prepared  to  make  a 
move  of  some  kind  by  the  middle  of  September.  Bear 
that  in  mind." 

A  moment  later  Syd  was  alone.  He  heard  Jennie 
clattering  the  milk-pails  in  the  kitchen.  Syd  won- 
dered if  there  was  a  stray  dog  in  Christendom  as  for- 
lorn as  he  was. 

"  But  I'm  not  dead  yet,"  he  reflected,  straightening 
his  shoulders  and  holding  his  head  erect.  "And  I'm 
not  going  to  give  up  the  fight  until  I  do  die.  I  don't 
care  to  have  a  hoe  or  wheat-shock  on  my  tombstone. 
It  shall  bear  the  simple  inscription :  '  Syd  McKnight — 
A  man  who  tried  to  farm  without  capital.  Died  game.' 
That  will  tell  the  tale.  No  poetry  required." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
FACING  THE  INEVITABLE. 

At  the  breakfast  table  next  morning  not  the  faintest 
reference  was  made  by  any  one  to  the  incident  in  the 
orchard.  Mr.  Fairfax  ate  in  grim  and  gloomy  silence, 
glancing  occasionally  at  his  step-son,  but  getting  each 
time,  it  seemed  to  him,  less  assurance  that  Syd  would 
ever  retract  from  the  stand  he  had  taken  the  evening 
before.  The  young  man  had  evidently  marked  out  a 
course  of  action  for  himself,  and  would  follow  it, 
sheriff's  sale  or  no  sheriff's  sale. 

But  if  Lele's  father  derived  no  solace  from  his  step- 
son's conduct,  Lele  herself  derived  still  less.  Syd  went 
no  further  than  to  apologize,  after  breakfast,  for  any 
seeming  rudeness  to  her.  During  the  ensuing  days,  by 
a  "  series  of  surprising  coincidences,"  he  was  contin- 
ually absent  when  Lele  was  present,  and  present  when 
she  was  absent.  Sometimes  he  seemed  too  busy  or 
absorbed  to  be  conscious  of  her  existence ;  again  he 
had  sudden  headaches  or  was  in  some  other  way  dis- 
qualified for  conversation  when  his  presence  was  most 
strongly  desired.  There  were  times  when  he  was  so 
busy  that  he  even  failed  to  come  to  his  meals,  but  would 
order  them  sent  to  the  field.  As  for  an  evening  spent 
on  the  veranda  with  her  and  the  children,  that  was  not 
to  be  thought  of.  He  would  sit  in  the  twilight  beside 

(374) 


FACING  THE   INEVITABLE.  3/5 

his  window,  evening  after  evening,  with  his  hands  over 
his  ears  to  keep  from  hearing  the  merriment  those 
thoughtless  children  kept  up  down-stairs.  He  was  glad 
they  could  —  poor  things  —  keep  up  a  semblance  of 
gayety,  even  though  he  dare  not  share  in  it.  But  the 
sound  of  their  young  voices  mingled  with  Lele's  stuck 
in  his  heart  like  an  arrow.  Once  Tude  came  running 
up  to  beg  htm  to  join  them  in  some  of  their  childish 
games,  as  he  used  to  do.  Syd  flatly  refused. 

"  I  wonder  why  you  are  so  distrcsscdly  mopy,"  said 
the  child.  "You're  not  even  reading,  are  you?" 

Syd  had  a  lamp  and  a  book  that  evening,  in  both  of 
which  even  Tude  could  detect  a  lack  of  interest. 

"  No,  I'm  thinking.  Run  away,  Tudikins,"  said 
Syd,  in  a  tone  of  weariness. 

"  How  tired  you  look,  Syd !  I'll  give  you  Lele's 
last  kiss  to  brighten  you." 

She  threw  herself  into  his  arms  and  kissed  him, 
laughing  and  shaking  her  golden  curls.  "  Lele  is  the 
very  dearest  girl  on  this  earth,"  she  added,  emphatic- 
ally, "  and  everybody  knows  it  but  you,  you  ugly,  bad 
boy,"  she  added,  with  a  pout. 

The  tears  sprang  to  Syd's  eyes. 

"  There !  I  didn't  mean  to  make  you  cry,"  said 
the  child,  resting  her  curly  head  against  his  shoulder. 
"And  you're  not  ugly  and  bad,  Syd.  You're  the  dear- 
est boy  in  this  world.  Shall  I  give  you  another  of 
Lele's  kisses?" 

"  You  scamp !  Who  ever  put  such  nonsense  into 
vour  head?" 


THE    MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 


"  Nobody  !     I  thought  it  all  up  my  own  self." 

"  How  many  kisses  have  you  brought  me,  Tudi- 
kins?" 

"  Eight,  I  guess.  They're  sent  C.  O.  D.,"  said  the 
whimsical  child,  presenting  her  rosy  lips.  "An'  I'm 
goin'  to  take  her  back  the  pay  !" 

"  Confess  this  originated  in  Charlie's  brain,"  said 
Syd,  laughing. 

"  Charlie  mentioned  a  little  of  it,"  confessed  Tude. 
"  He  said  you  were  mopin'  here  like  a  dismal  ole  owl, 
an'  then  I  thought  it  all  up  my  own  self  about  bringin' 
you  Lele's  kisses." 

"  Heaven  reward  you  !"  said  Syd,  gently  ;  "  but 
some  things  are  non-transferable,  you  know.  Don't 
bring  me  any  more." 

He  put  her  firmly  out  of  the  room,  and  then  spent 
an  hour  in  wishing  she  would  come  back  with  another 
supply.  But  Mistress  Tudikins  came  no  more.  He 
suspected  that  Lele  had  heard  of  the  shipment  and  laid 
an  embargo  on  the  stock. 

It  was  very  soon  after  that  when  Syd,  upon  going 
one  evening,  as  usual,  straight  up  to  his  room  after  his 
day's  work,  found  on  the  bureau  an  envelope  contain- 
ing the  two  photographs  of  which,  very  early  in  their 
acquaintance,  Lele  had  deprived  him.  He  took  them 
out  slowly,  his  face  presenting  a  picture  that  Lele 
would  have  given  much  to  see. 

Not  a  word  of  explanation  accompanied  them,  but 
he  understood  it  to  be  an  acknowledgment  on  her  part 
that  all  was  over  between  them,  if,  indeed,  any  ties  had 


FACING  THE  INEVITABLE.  377 

ever  existed.  Whereat  he  should,  to  be  consistent, 
have  rejoiced  greatly,  and  gone  to  bed  in  a  tranquil 
frame  of  mind,  instead  of  lying  sleepless  most  of  the 
night  on  a  pillow  of  thorns,  as  he  did. 

At  last  he  rose,  lit  the  lamp,  and  tearing  each  pic- 
ture to  bits,  watched  them  slowly  consume  in  the  flame 
of  the  lamp. 

"  This  is  the  last  time  any  one  shall  compare  Ward 
and  me  to  my  disadvantage,"  he  thought.  "  I  will 
begin  preparations  to  leave  to-morrow.  And  I  won't 
go  to  Dakota,  either.  Dakota  is  too  near.  I  shall  go 
to  Seattle,  San  Francisco,  Alaska,  or  perhaps  Hong 
Kong.  I  don't  think  I  should  be  disturbed  in  Hong 
Kong  by  that  laugh  of  his,  confound  him." 

Glancing  in  the  glass,  he  was  fairly  angered  to 
observe  how  white  and  haggard  he  looked.  He  sat 
down  on  the  foot  of  the  bed,  feeling  faint  and  very 
miserable. 

"  I  have  no  more  nerve  than  a  girl !"  he  thought,  in 
a  fury  with  himself.  "  Why  do  I  care  so  to  be  loved? 
Why  is  it  so  like  death  to  be  torn  from  the  old  home, 
and  from  the  only  woman  who  could  ever  have  made 
it  home  for  me?" 

He  gazed  long  and  wistfully  at  his  mother's  pic- 
ture. Something  in  its  sweet  expression  must  have 
tranquillized  him,  for  at  last  he  fell  into  a  sound  sleep, 
with  the  lamp  still  burning.  And  the  eyes  of  his 

sainted  mother   still  seemed  to  watch  him  tenderly. 

****** 

Ed  convalesced  rapidly,  and  by  the  end  of  the  week 


378  THE;  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE. 

was  able  to  go  about  the  house  again,  able  to  occupy 
his  "den"  once  more,  and  leave  his  father  —  who 
secretly  detested  him  more  than  ever  —  to  himself. 
Ed  found  some  changes  up-stairs  which  would  once 
have  angered  him,  but  really  made  him  grateful  now. 
The  woodwork  had  been  thoroughly  scrubbed,  and 
pretty  rugs  were  on  the  floor,  the  walls  whitewashed, 
neat  paper  blinds  put  up,  and  over  them  hung  fresh 
muslin  curtains.  All  the  flashy  pictures  had  disap- 
peared, together  with  the  sensational  books  and  papers. 
Ed  felt  glad  that  the  first  temptation  which  he  had 
expected  to  encounter  had  been  removed  —  debasing 
literature  and  pictures.  It  was  Syd  who  had  made  a 
bonfire  of  these,  mentally  registering  a  vow  that  no 
other  rubbish  of  that  kind  should  ever  accumulate  in  a 
home  of  his.  A  search  of  Charlie's  room  had  revealed 
some  surprises  in  this  line,  too,  and  had  materially 
increased  the  conflagration  in  the  back  yard. 

"  I'd  thank  you  to  leave  my  things  alone,"  said 
Charlie,  angrily.  "  You're  nicer  than  you're  wise,  I 
think." 

"  I  don't  propose  to  have  any  more  minds  contami- 
nated by  bad  literature  and  pictures,"  said  Syd.  "  If 
I  had  done  my  duty  by  Ed,  he  might  have  grown  up 
a  much  better  boy.  I  call  such  books  as  these,"  he 
added,  throwing  another  on  the  flames,  "  the  Devil's 
Bible." 

Charlie  walked  off  sullenly,  but  he  said  no  more, 
for  he  knew  Syd  was  right. 

Ed's    hideous    bed    had    been    renovated,    all    the 


FACING  THE  INEVITABLE.  379 

"  strings  "  removed,  and  now  the  covers  were  clean 
and  whole,  the  pillows  snowy. 

Instead  of  the  dingy,  unwashed  lantern  in  one  cor- 
ner, stood  a  stand  supporting  a  lamp,  a  Bible,  and  some 
books  by  Pansy,  Miss  Alcott  and  Trowbridge.  In  a 
vase  beside  the-  Bible  was  a  handful  of  great  pansies, 
nodding  like  friendly  faces.  The  rickety  old  stool,  that 
used  to  serve  as  chief  seat  of  honor,  was  gone,  and  in 
its  place  stood  a  comfortable  rocker.  The  "  wheels  " 
had  not  been  disturbed,  but  the  shavings  and  debris  had 
all  been  cleared  away.  Ed  thought  it  was  all  Lele's 
doings,  and  was  going  down  to  thank  her,  when  he 
saw  a  note  pinned  to  one  of  the  curtains  addressed  in 
Jean's  unmistakable  chirography.  Opening  it,  he  read : 

"DEAR  ED:  —  I  have  never  in  my  life  done  much  to  make 
you  happy  or  your  home  attractive.  You  know  I  feel  differ- 
ently now,  and  would  give  a  great  deal  if  I  could  have  the 
past  to  live  over  again.  But  I  know  that  can  never  be.  The 
future  will  be  my  past  some  day,  if  I  live,  and  I  hope  I  may 
be  able  to  look  back  over  it  without  so  much  regret.  When 
Lele  wanted  to  fix  up  your  room  as  it  is  now,  I  wouldn't  let 
her,  except  to  buy  the  rugs  and  curtains,  because  I  felt  that 
this  ought  to  be  part  of  my  atonement.  I  fixed  it  up  on 
uncertainties,  not  knowing  how  long  we  may  be  here;  but 
while  we  are  here,  I  want  you  to  be  comfortable.  Lele  can 
make  you  happier  by  being  with  you,  but  I'm  such  an  irri- 
tating (a  blot),  contrary  creature  (another  blot)  that  it  is 
best  for  me  to  show  my  good  will  by  working  for  you  rather 
than  talking  to  you,  for  you  know  I  can't  keep  my  temper 
two  minutes,  but  will  fly  off  the  handle  like  a  piece  of  ill  reg- 
ulated machinery.  .  .  .  I've  tried  to  fix  things  up  without 
destroying  or  putting  out  of  sight  anything  you  valued,  but 
if  you  miss  anything,  just  say  so,  and  I'll  make  it  right,  if 
I  possibly  can. 


380  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

"  I  know  you  like  pansies,  Ed,  if  you  don't  care  much  for 
other  flowers,  so  I've  picked  all  my  choicest  ones  for  you. 
The  pansy  means  '  thought/  you  know,  and  when  you  look 
at  these,  remember  you  have  my  best  thoughts.  And  will  you 
not  give  me  yours  in  return?  Life  would  be  so  much  happier 
for  me  if  I  were  not  perpetually  conscious  of  doing  and  saying 
things  to  make  my  brothers  and  sisters  miserable.  Oh,  Ed ! 
help  me  conquer  my  wretched  temper,  and  to  be  a  Christian. 

"  Your  loving  sister,  JINSEY." 

Ed  was  quite  a  different  boy  sitting  in  his  easy 
chair  perusing  these  lines,  from  the  Ed  Fairfax  whom 
we  remember  as  coming  down  from  this  room  in  a 
towering  passion  because  some  effort  had  been  made  to 
sweep  and  garnish  it.  Still  the  old  nature  was  too 
strong  to  permit  him  to  go  to  Jennie  with  words  of 
gratitude  and  love.  The  interview  would  have  been 
an  awkward  one  for  both.  Writing  was  a  hard  task 
for  Ed,  but  the  next  morning  when  Jennie  went  up 
to  make  his  bed  she  found  an  answer  to  her  note, 
pinned  to  the  curtain,  where  hers  had  been.  She 
unpinned  it  with  trembling  ringers.  It  was  badly  writ- 
ten, misspelled  and  unpunctuated ;  everything  about  it 
was  faulty,  except  the  sentiment,  and  that  breathed  of 
gratitude,  hope  and  good-will,  which  fairly  glorified 
the  uncouth  epistle  in  the  eyes  of  his  repentant  sister. 
Poor  Jen  in  her  narrow  life  had  received  few  enough 
notes  to  treasure,  as  girls  do  in  their  teens.  But  this 
one  of  Ed's  she  kept  always  with  her  most  cherished 
possessions. 

It  seemed  to  mark  the  first  mile-stone  in  the  upward 
course  of  both.  But  there  was  a  long  and  weary  jour- 


FACING  THE   INEVITABLE.  381 

ney  between  them  and  the  resting  place  at  the  top  of 
the  hill ;  many  an  hour  of  storm  lay  between  these  two 
souls  and  the  peace  they  longed  for. 

Ed  also  kept  Jennie's  letter.  Years  afterward  he 
showed  it  to  her,  when  it  was  cut  out  in  the  creases, 
and  told  her  how  great  its  influence  had  been  in  many 
an  hour  of  temptation.  Through  all  her  life  she  trem- 
bled to  think  how  near  he  had  come  to  destruction. 
Oh,  sisters!  do  not  shut  your  eyes  to  the  opportunities 
around  your  fireside  until  it  is  too  late.  Regrets  will 
be  useless  then. 

The  following  Sunday  afternoon  Ed  and  Lele  had 
a  long  talk  over  the  past,  present  and  future. 

"  I  was  sick  —  perfectly  sick  of  life,"  he  told  her, 
"when  I  went  away  the  day  before  thrashin' ;  I  had 
had  several  quarrels  with  different  members  of  the 
family,  and  was  disgusted  with  myself  and  angry  with 
every  one.  Worse  than  all,  I  was  discouraged  because 
I  must  stay  here  when  I  wanted  so  bad  to  learn  a 
trade.  I  didn't  think,  as  father  said,  that  I  could  ever 
amount  to  anything,  an'  I  meant  to  go  off  an'  kill 
myself.  But  after  the  way  you  talked  to  me  about 
bein'  a  Christian,  I  hadn't  the  courage  to  do  it.  I 
wandered  around  that  night  for  hours,  tryin'  to  get  up 
grit  enough  to  send  a  bullet  through  my  skull;  but 
everywhere  your  eyes  were  before  me,  your  voice  was 
soundin'  in  my  ears.  I  couldn't  do  it,  so  I  went  away 
an'  began  to  kill  myself  in  a  slower,  disgracefuller  way 
by  dissipation." 


382  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

He  leaned  forward,  shadowing  his  downcast  face 
with  his  hands. 

"  When  I  think,"  he  went  on,  "  of  the  vile  com- 
pany I  got  into,  and  my  forgery  and  drunkenness  — 
of  gettin'  arrested  an'  having  delirium  trcnicns  —  I 
know  just  how  I  look  in  the  eyes  of  everybody  that 
knows  me,  and  I  see  how  useless  it  is  ever  to  try  to 
be  anything  here.  Nobody  could  ever  forget  my  bcin' 
a  thief,  and  in  jail,  an'  having  the  trcuiens.  How  they 
would  sneer  at  the  idea  of  my  turning  saint,  especially 
the  boys!  I'm  afraid,  Lele,  actually  afraid  to  go  out- 
side the  big  gate,  for  fear  I'll  meet  some  of  my  old 
pals  and  be  weak  enough  to  let  them  drag  me  down 
again." 

"  Poor  boy !  "  said  Lele,  tenderly. 

"  If  I  were  among  strangers,  I  would  choose  good 
associates  or  none;  but  here  I  can't  choose,  because 
people  have  lost  all  faith  in  me.  If  I  were  brilliant 
and  jolly,  with  plenty  of  money,  I  don't  suppose  it 
would  matter  much  what  I  did ;  people  would  still 
treat  me  well ;  but  I  never  was  anything  in  society  but 
a  cipher,  and  now  I've  degenerated  into  a  blct.  What's 
to  become  of  me  is  more  than  I  can  see." 

"  Father  will  not  hold  you  on  the  farm  any  longer 
against  your  wishes ;  he  told  me  so.  But  he  also  told 
me  that  your  '  spree  '  had  cost  him  over  two  hundred 
dollars  —  money  which  might  have  been  used  in  help- 
ing you  learn  a  trade." 

"  Yes,  I  know  I've  brought  it  all  on  myself.     1 


FACING  THE  INEVITABLE.  383 

deserve  no  pity,"  said  Ed,  crimson  with  shame.  "  Here 
I  must  stay,  and  God  alone  knows  how  it  will  all  end. 
The  stronger  I  get,  the  stronger  grow  the  old  feelings, 
hatred  for  all  the  old  associations  and  longing  for  — 
liquor.  I  can't  be  anything  but  a  reprobate,  and  what's 
the  use  to  try  ?" 

His  eyes  were  downcast,  but  she  saw  that  the  lashes 
were  wet.  It  was  a  strange  sight  indeed  to  see  Ed 
Fairfax  weep.  He  felt  utterly  hopeless. 

But  in  Lele's  heart  hope  was  by  no  means  dead. 
Her  faith  in  the  goodness  and  power  of  an  ever-watch- 
ful Providence  remained  unbroken. 

"  Have  faith  in  God,  Ed,"  she  said,  earnestly. 
"  Give  Him  your  heart  and  leave  everything  to  Him. 
Only  He  can  help  you." 

"  I  feel  you  are  right,"  said  Ed,  "  but  I'm  as  help- 
less as  a  baby,  morally.  I  want  to  do  right,  but  I 
can't  stand  a  breath  of  temptation.  I  have  no  more 
moral  force  than  a  feather  has  weight." 

A  long,  serious  talk  followed.  In  the  midst  of  it, 
Tude  appeared  to  say  that  Ward  Collins  had  called. 
Lele  declined  to  see  him,  but  sent  a  little  note  instead. 

"  I  am  having  a  talk  with  Ed  that  may  mark  an 
era  in  his  life,"  she  wrote.  "  I  am  sure  you  will  for- 
give me  if  I  let  him  know  that  he  is  just  now  the  most 
important  man  in  the  world  to  me.  The  poor  boy  is 
so  weak  and  despondent  that  it  would  grieve  you  to  see 
him.  I  will  see  you  with  pleasure  at  another  time." 

"  If  that  isn't  devotion !  "  thought  Ward,  as  he 
pocketed  the  note.  "  Confound  the  luck !  I  never 


384  THE    MAX    WITH    THE    HOE. 

knew  a  girl  that  had  as  much  sympathy  to  waste  on 
other  people  as  Lele  has." 

He  went  off  hurriedly,  without  asking  Jennie  to 
drive,  in  Lele's  place,  as  the  latter  had  hoped.  At  the 
red  gate  he  met  Hubbard. 

"  Not  turned  down !  "  exclaimed  Keith. 

"  And  for  that  precious  run-away  brother  of  hers, 
whose  face  would  stop  an  eight-day  clock !  It  seems 
she's  preaching  to  him,  and  won't  have  her  sermon 
interrupted.  Isn't  she  queer?"  grumbled  Ward. 

"  Precious  good,  I  call  it,  for  a  sister !  What  would 
Trix  care  where  you  went  so  she  got  her  Sunday  after- 
noon's drive?" 

"  What  would  she  care,  indeed  ?  My  spiritual  wel- 
fare has  been  shamefully  neglected.  All  the  more  rea- 
son why  I've  got  to  have  a  religious  wife." 

"  But  perhaps  you've  been  too  one-sided  in  your 
devotion.  A  girl  sometimes  needs  to  know  that  '  there 
are  others.'  What  say  to  paying  a  call  at  St.  John's? 
Maud's  awfully  pretty  cousin  from  Pittsburg  is  there." 

"  I  don't  want  Lele  to  think  I'm  gone  off  in  a  fit  of 
pique  to  call  on  another  girl,  when  she  was  so  nice  in 
explaining  about  Ed.  It  wouldn't  help  my  cause  any 
with  her,  Hubby." 

"  It  wouldn't  hurt  it  any,  I  guess." 

"  Miss  Prescott  isn't  my  style,  and  besides,  I'd 
just  as  lief  not  see  Maud  this  evening." 

"  I'd  just  as  lief  you  wouldn't,  myself,"  laughed 
Keith.  "  But  I've  promised  to  take  Maud  buggy-rid- 
ing this  afternoon,  and  three's  a  crowd,  you  know." 


FACING  THE  INEVITABLE.  385 

"  Especially  since  kissing  is  a  game  that  only  two 
can  play  at !  " 

"Oh,  the  dickens!  Say  you'll  go,  Polly.  That's 
a  dear !  " 

"Miss  Prescott  is  so  —  flip;  and  I  never  did  fancy 
a  regularly  fast  girl,  as  you  know." 

"But  for  once,  Polly,  you'll  tolerate  her  —  just  to 
oblige  me?" 

"  Y-e-s,  if  I  must.  But,  confound  you,  Keith,  I'll 
not  do  it  again  even  to  oblige  you." 

It  was  in  this  way  that  Ward  met  temptations  from 
his  too  numerous  friends.  It  was  not  possible  for  him 
long  to  resist,  even  when  he  would  have  preferred  fol- 
lowing a  very  different  course.  Any  stronger  mind 

could  dominate  him  easily,  either  for  good  or  evil. 
******* 

The  days  went  by  as  though  winged.  Every  one 
counted  the  time  to  the  fifteenth  of  September  with 
ever-increasing  dread.  The  mortgage  was  due  at  that 
date ;  there  was  no  money  to  pay  withal,  and  Mr.  Fair- 
fax knew  of  no  one  to  whom  the  mortgage  could  be 
transferred.  The  farm,  if  sold  under  the  hammer, 
would  just  about  satisfy  the  debt.  No  wonder  Mr. 
Fairfax  looked  gloomy,  and  was  heard  to  sigh  and 
groan  as  he  rummaged  his  desk  in  the  vain  hope  of 
finding  some  paper  that  wrould  help  him  in  the  present 
dilemma.  Penury  sat  opposite  and  stared  at  him 
mockingly  through  the  long  summer  afternoons. 

Mr.  Fairfax  had  all  his  life  been  too  much  wrapped 
up  in  outside  affairs  to  pay  much  attention  to  the 

(25) 


386  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE. 

family,  and  he  now  regretted  most  deeply  that  he  had 
not  done  more  to  bind  the  hearts  of  his  children  to  him. 
A  feeling  of  resentment  against  him  as  the  chief  author 
of  all  their  financial  troubles  rankled  in  their  breasts. 
Even  Lele  felt  a  sort  of  contempt  for  him  that  kept 
her  aloof  for  a  time.  But  seeing  how  much  his  spirit 
was  broken  by  his  troubles,  her  tender  heart  melted. 
Going  up  to  the  despondent  man,  who  sat  at  his  desk 
with  his  head  bowed  upon  his  hands,  she  put  her 
arms  around  his  neck  and  kissed  him  tenderly.  He 
was  not  a  demonstrative  or  fond  parent,  but  he  was 
grateful  for  the  sympathy  which  at  another  time  he 
would  have  repelled. 

• "  Things  are  in  a  bad  shape,  daughter,"  he  said  in 
a  hollow  voice. 

"  I  feel  so  sorry  for  you,  papa,"  was  the  tearful 
response.  It  grieved  her  unspeakably  that  she  could 
suggest  no  positive  cure  for  the  ills  that  beset  him.  If 
only  she  could  hear  from  Mr.  Carpenter! 

But  while  she  could  offer  little  substantial  help,  she 
would  not  leave  him  to  face  his  troubles  alone.  And 
the  others  emulating  her  example,  softened,  too,  toward 
the  parent  to  whom  they  feared  that  they  had  been 
unjust. 

Still  the  shadow  deepened  day  by  day,  hour  by 
hour.  Syd  grew  more  taciturn ;  Mr.  Fairfax  more 
silent  and  preoccupied;  Jen  less  communicative.  Lele 
was  quieter,  too,  and  not  hopeful,  for  she  had  not 
heard  one  word  from  her  guardian  concerning  a  plan 
she  had  suggested  to  him,  and  if  that  failed,  she  could 


FACING  THE  INEVITABLE.  387 

think  of  no  other.  Besides,  Syd's  neglect  crushed  her 
spirits,  and  Ward's  untiring  devotion  worried  her.  But 
through  it  all  she  was  as  serene  in  temper,  as  earnest 
in  sympathy  as  ever,  striving  unobtrusively  to  scatter 
what  little  sunshine  she  could  amid  the  general  gloom. 
And  now  her  sympathy  was  sorely  needed,  for  the 
clouds  thickened  fast.  Dock,  the  best  work-horse,  war, 
driven  off  and  sold  to  satisfy  one  of  Mr.  Fairfax's 
debts ;  Mr.  Heldt  sued  for  damages  to  his  growing  corn 
and  truck-patch,  and  Jennie's  whole  flock  of  turkeys 
disappeared,  never  to  return.  Even  Cora  shared  in  the 
general  accumulation  of  troubles,  for  the  faithless  Ol 
deserted  her  entirely  for  Sue  Hubbard. 

A  huge  maple-tree  stood  in  a  corner  of  the  back- 
yard, from  one  of  whose  branches  hung  a  long  chain 
swing,  where  of  evenings  the  young  people,  even 
including  Lele,  swung  by  turns,  or  dreamily  sat  "  let- 
ting the  old  cat  die." 

One  evening  the  younger  members  of  the  family 
were  gathered  here,  as  usual,  Cora  in  the  swing  and 
Tude  in  her  lap,  Clem  and  Charlie  lying  on  the  grass 
near  by.  All  were  in  a  pensive  mood,  their  minds  busy 
with  somber,  unchildish  thoughts  —  thoughts  of  being 
torn  from  their  old  home,  of  giving  up  their  favorite 
haunts,  and  of  going  far  away,  they  knew  not  whither. 
Cora's  mind  was  haunted,  too,  by  reflections  on  the 
fickleness  of  man.  She  regretted  ever  putting  on  long 
dresses,  now  she  had  no  beau,  and  seriously  meditated 
wearing  her  hair  in  braids  again. 

"  Jen  thinks  we'll  have  to  go,"  Cora  said,  breaking 


388  THE   MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

an  oppressive  silence,  when  Tude  slipped  out  of  her 
arms  to  put  her  adored  wax  Lily  into  her  cradle  at 
the  root  of  the  tree. 

"If  Jenks  would  only  scold!"  said  Clem,  plaintively, 
"  I'd  not  mind  it  half  so  much.  I  wouldn't  object  to 
movin'.  But  seems  like  there's  somebody  dead  about 
the  house  when  you  can't  provoke  Jen  anyway." 

"  I  guess  it's  'cause  she  feels  in  her  bones  that  we're 
goin'  to  move,"  said  Tude.  "  She's  commencin'  to 
pack.  She  says  she  won't  be  turned  out  in  the  big 
road  with  ever 'thing  topsy-turvy.  I  guess  I'll  be  get- 
tin'  all  my  doll-rags  together." 

"  You'd  better  bury  Lily  out  in  the  garden,"  said 
Charlie,  dolorously.  "  She's  too  fine  to  live  in  a  dug- 
out." 

"  What's  a  dugout  ?"  asked  the  child,  her  blue  eyes 
full  of  wonder. 

"  Why,  it's  a  place  dug  out  o'  the  ground  an'  cov- 
ered with  sod,  where  people  what's  et  up  with  mort- 
gages have  to  congregate.  They  have  a  hole  in  the 
roof  to  let  out  the  smoke,  an'  bunk  around  in  a  circle 
like  Esquimaux.  They  live  mostly  on  fat  meat  an' 
cornbread.  They  dig  in  tooth  an'  toenails,  an'  work 
mostly  from  twenty  to  twenty-five  hours  a  day,"  said 
Charlie,  as  though  conning  a  lesson.  "  Sycl  says  we're 
to  go  to  Dakota  if  we  stay  with  him,  an'  I  rather  guess 
we  will.  I  don't  pin  much  faith  to  my  revered  dad 
when  it  comes  to  grub  an'  shelter." 

"  Won't  we  miss  this  swing  of  summer  evenings, 


FACING  THE   INEVITABLE.  389 

and  the  veranda  and  honeysuckles,"  said  Cora,  with  a 
repressed  sob. 

"  And  Ol,"  concluded  Charlie. 

"  An'  the  blackbirds.  I  wonder  who  they'll  be  hol- 
lerin'  at  next  summer,  an'  who'll  be  wearin'  hisself  out 
clappin'  at  'em  with  clapboards,"  meditated  Clem. 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  Ol  Stuart's  dog 
barked  continuously.  Cora  sobbed  outright. 

"  That's  you,  Code,"  said  Charlie,  impatiently ; 
"  bawl  your  eyes  out  for  a  fellow  with  a  face  like  a 
pug  dog." 

"  I'm  not,"  retorted  Cora,  but  she  sobbed  again. 
"  I  don't  mind  leaving  Ol  one  bit,"  she  added.  "  But 
think  of  leaving  all  the  Prior  red  apples,  an'  the 
peaches,  an'  cherries,  an',  boo-hoo !  all  the  currants,  and 
rosebushes,  an'  our  new  white  grapes,  an'  strawberries 

for  them  Collinses !  " 

******* 

The  few  days  preceding  the  sale  were  mainly 
devoted  to  rummaging  the  garrets  and  storerooms,  and 
raking  out  chests  and  drawers  and  presses  preparatory 
to  what  seemed  the  inevitable  moving.  How  many 
pleasant  memories,  how  many  sad  ones,  each  article 
awoke  —  too  good,  many  of  them,  to  burn ;  too  cum- 
bersome to  think  of  moving.  For  instance,  Charlie's 
old  colt-skin-covered  trunk  was  overhauled.  This  was 
filled  with  a  collection  of  relics  of  which  Charlie  was 
very  fond,  though  Jennie  had  long  ago  dubbed  the 
box  and  all  it  contained  "  a  mess  of  conssrned  trumpery 
—  the  phgtte  of  her  life  —  and  she  would  give  the 


39O  THE   MAN    WITH    THE;' HOE. 

world  to  know  that  it  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea." 
In  summer  it  reposed  in  the  store-room  up-stairs, 
where  Charlie  spent  most  of  the  rainy  days,  a  fact 
attested  by  innumerable  muddy  tracks  in  the  halls  and 
on  the  stairs.  As  winter  approached,  he  invariably 
lugged  it  down  to  the  kitchen  and  stowed  it  securely 
under  the  table,  there  to  remain  until  house-cleaning  • 
time,  taking,  as  Jen  declared,  every  afternoon,  when 
she  had  exerted  herself  particularly  hard  to  set  the 
kitchen  in  perfect  order,  to  spread  his  treasures  all  over 
the  floor,  luring  in  a  horde  of  small,  ragged,  blear-eyed, 
catarrhy  urchins,  the  children  of  the  tenants,  to  trade 
pistols,  arrow-heads,  and  other  boyish  trophies. 

Charlie  had  in  his  trunk  a  collection  of  all  the 
wrecked  and  broken  firearms  in  the  neighborhood, 
apparently,  besides  all  sorts  of  odd"  toys  and  implements 
carved  from  wood  and  lead ;  and  a  store  of  musty  farm 
journals,  which  he  valued  chiefly  for  the  puzzles.  By 
far  the  most  valuable  part  of  the  collection,  in  his 
estimation,  consisted  of  his  Indian  relics,  several  scrap- 
books  full  of  bear  stories,  and  a  file  of  old  newspapers, 
marked,  "  Not  to  be  destroyed."  These  last,  placed  on 
top,  filled  the  trunk  to  bursting,  so  that  it  would  never 
quite  close,  but  always  had  to  be  secured  with  a  rope. 

By  this  trunk  Charlie  "  stood  like  a  stone  wall." 

"  When  we  move,"  he  said,  "  that  old  colt-skin 
goes,  too !  No  odds  where  we  go,  the  place  has  got 
to  be  big  enough  for  me  an'  that  colt-skin." 

Jennie  had  passed  many  wakeful  nights  planning 
the  prospective  moving,  and  arranging  in  her  mind 


FACING  THE   INEVITABLE.  39! 

what  could,  should  and  must  be  parted  with.  Many 
and  many  a  bitter  pang  did  thoughts  of  losing  the  dear 
household  gods  give  her,  until  one  night,  in  her  mental 
survey  of  the  establishment,  she  came  to  the  "  old  colt- 
skin,"  and  in  a  moment  experienced  a  thrill  of  relief. 
A  ray  of  comfort  had  at  last  penetrated  the  gloom.  No 
matter  what  there  might  be  in  the  new  home  to  worry 
and  vex  her,  the  abominated  "  colt-skin  "  would  be 
forever  a  thing  of  the  past.  It  was  worth  many 
another  sacrifice  just  to  rid  the  house  of  that  one 
supreme  discomfort.  A  feeling  of  compensation  for 
some  of  her  lost  treasures  stole  over  her ;  she  felt 
soothed,  and  almost  immediately  fell  asleep.  The  next 
morning,  happening  to  inquire  for  Charlie,  she  was 
electrified  by  the  reply  — 

"  Up-stairs  packin'  his  ole  colt-skin !  " 

The  sleeping  lion  was  roused  in  Jennie.  Her  eyes 
snapped  with  their  old  fire,  and  going  up-stairs  two 
steps  at  a  time,  she  discovered  Charlie  in  the  center 
of  the  store-room,  his  face  crimson  with  the  exertion 
he  was  making  to  close  the  lid  of  the  overflowing 
trunk. 

Jennie  paused  a  moment  with  her  hand  on  the  door- 
knob, feeling  sorry  for  the  disappointment  in  store  for 
him,  but  resolved  to  be  firm. 

"  Charlie,  what  are  you  doing?"  she  asked,  as  a  pre- 
lude to  attack.  She  knew  well  enough. 

"  Packin' !  " 

"  But  you  know  we  can't  move  that  rubbish.  You 
mustn't  think  of  it,  Charlie." 


392  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE. 

All  the  boy's  native  combativeness  awoke.  His 
eyes  blazed  as  he  pushed  back  the  curls  of  hair  from 
his  flushed  brow  and  faced  her: 

"I  just  will  think  of  it,  so  there!"  he  said,  defi- 
antly. "Where  this  colt-skin  can't  go,  I  won't!" 

"  We  can't  afford  the  expense  of  moving  rubbish 
to  Dakota." 

"  This  ain't  rubbish.  It's  valuable,  every  bit  of  it. 
I  sorted  it  out  and  left  everything  out  I  could  spare," 
and  he  pointed  to  a  little  pile  of  dust  and  mice-chewed 
paper.  "  I  can't,  just  can't  give  up  a  single  thing  that's 
left."  He  spoke  quite  humbly  for  willful  Charlie. 

"  I  wouldn't  make  you  leave  it,"  said  Jennie,  begin- 
ning to  relent,  "  but  you  must  see  how  impossible  in 
our  new  home  it  will  be  to  find  room  for  anything 
except  really  necessary  things." 

"They  are  necessary,  Jinsey  —  just  as  necessary  as 
bread  and  butter.  Why,  what  would  I  do  rainy  days 
if  I  hadn't  my  relics  an'  bear  stories?" 

Jen  said  no  more,  but  she  felt  more  than  ever 
depressed  in  spirit  when  she  went  down-stairs.  Charlie 
and  that  colt-skin  could  never  be  peaceably  divorced 
—  that  was  certain.  How  she  was  to  endure  the  pair 
of  them  in  her  new  home  was  something  that  she  had 
not  grace  sufficient  to  reflect  upon. 

No  one  now  had  any  doubt  that  they  were  to  be 
sold  out.  Syd  and  Lele  each  had  a  plan  to  save  the 
farm,  but,  ignorant  of  each  other's  movements,  they 
were  working  at  cross  purposes,  and  neither  had  any 
longer  much  hope  of  success. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 
THE  SALE. 

Mr.  Collins  came  one  day  shortly  before  the  interest 
was  due  and  asked  for  a  settlement  —  he  needed  the 
money.  There  was  only  one  way  to  settle,  and  he 
knew  it.  Mr.  Fairfax,  driven  to  the  wall,  was  forced 
to  waive  all  rights  and  let  the  farm  go  to  sale.  In 
vain  he  pleaded  for  an  extension  of  the  note ;  equally 
useless  was  his  appeal  to  have  the  sale  deferred  until 
later,  in  order  to  make  the  sale  more  generally  known, 
and  increase  the  chance  of  its  selling"  to  advantage. 

"  I  don't  do  business  that  way,"  was  the  reply. 
"  I've  waited  on  you  for  several  years,  an'  now  I  pro- 
pose to  settle  up  to  my  advantage,  not  yours." 

"  You're  hardly  human,  Si  Collins,"  said  Syd,  who 
was  present. 

"  You  skeercely  expected  me  to  give  you  the  note, 
did  you  ?"  asked  old  Si,  lighting  his  vile  pipe  and  push- 
ing his  straw  hat  back  with  a  grin.  "  I  confess  I 
never  expected  but  what  you  an'  Lele  would  arrange 
to  keep  the  place  —  between  you,"  he  added,  with  a 
wink. 

Syd  stepped  to  the  door  and  flung  it  open. 

"  \Ye've  had  enough  of  you  and  your  insults,"  he 
said,  through  his  teeth.  "  Clear  out !  " 

(393) 


394  ™E  MAN  WITH  THIC  HOE. 

Si  threw  back  his  head  with  a  laugh.  But  he 
watched  Syd  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  as  he  passed 
out.  When  he  was  on  his  horse,  cantering  down  the 
lane,  he  breathed  more  freely. 

"  Syd's  an  ugly  customer  to  wake  up !  "  he  thought, 
with  a  shrug.  "  I'm  glad  that  business  is  over." 

It  was  thus  borne  in  upon  the  unwilling  minds  of 
the  Fairfax  family  that  foreclosure  must  come.  The 
farm  was  advertised  at  sheriff's  sale,  all  legal  prelim- 
inaries taken,  and  in  what  seemed  a  very  short  time 
the  dreaded  day  of  sale  arrived. 

Ward  was  not  in  attendance ;  he  hated  sales  in 
which  his  father  was  interested,  particularly  of  this 
character.  Poor  old  Syd  would  probably  be  there, 
looking  the  picture  of  despair,  and  Ward  shrank  from 
seeing  him.  He  felt  truly  sorry  for  him  and  for  all 
the  Fairfaxes,  but  what  could  he  do?  He  couldn't  lift 
the  mortgage,  and  nothing  else  would  help  them. 

He  had  tried  to  keep  from  urging  his  suit  with  Lele 
until  this  hateful  sale  was  over,  when  the  fact  that 
his  father  instead  of  Lele's  owned  the  Fairfax  home- 
stead might  prove  a  factor  in  his  favor.  The  family 
would  so  soon  be  homeless,  as  well  as  nearly  destitute, 
that  Lele  would  be  driven  by  a  sense  of  duty  to  make 
some  arrangements  by  which  they  would  be  benefited. 
And  since  the  family  must  begin  immediately  to  plan 
for  the  future,  he  felt  that  his  chance  of  winning  Lele 
would  be  much  greater  than  formerly,  as  she  could  not 
possibly  do  anything  in  the  way  of  furnishing  pecuniary 
aid  until  she  got  control  of  her  property,  which  would 


THE  SALE;.  395 

not,  according  to  the  provisions  of  her  aunt's  will,  be 
until  she  married.  The  day  of  this  sale  might,  there- 
fore, be  an  opportune  time  to  urge  a  final  answer  to  his 
all-important  question. 

But  would  she  marry  him  ?  He  had  the  natural  con- 
fidence of  a  buoyant,  seldom-disappointed  nature ;  still 
he  could  not  but  know  that  there  were  few  grounds 
for  hope.  He  fidgeted  around  the  house  all  day,  more 
restless  and  troublesome,  Trix  declared,  than  Roy  at 
his  very  worst ;  and  toward  sunset  (when  he  was  sure 
Lele  must  have  heard  the  result  of  the  sale)  completed 
a  toilet  twice  as  elaborate  as  usual.  Still  feeling  dis- 
satisfied with  himself,  he  went  into  the  parlor  and 
critically  viewed  his  figure  in  the  full-length  mirror, 
wondering  if  any  improvement  was  possible  from  the 
crown  of  his  curly  head  to  the  soles  of  his  polished 
shoes. 

Trix  was  at  the  piano  practicing  a  dreamy  German 
waltz,  and  looked  curiously  at  him  over  her  shoulder 
as  she  played. 

"Are  you  worse  stuck  on  yourself  than  usual?"  she 
asked,  with  a  little  satirical  half-laugh. 

Ward  blushed  like  a  girl. 

"  Trix,  be  kind,  that's  a  darling,"  he  pleaded.  "  Do 
you  think  I  look  all  right?  I'm  awfully,  desperately 
anxious  to  look  my  best  to-night." 

"  Going  to  propose  ?"  asked  Trix,  still  running  her 
tapering  fingers  over  the  keys  and  regarding  him  with 
an  odd,  provoking  callousness. 

"  N-o."     ("  Better  not  tell  her  I've  done  that,  since 


396  THE    MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

Maud  wasn't  the  girl,"  he  reflected,  for  Trix  disap- 
proved of  all  other  girls.)  "  But  I  do  want  to  make 
a  stunning  impression." 

"  You  ought  to  —  in  that  suit.  The  girl  who  would 
refuse  such  a  handsome  fellow  wouldn't  be  worth  cry- 
ing over.  But,  Ward,  I  tell  you  candidly  that  there 
are  girls  in  the  world  who  would  be  quite  capable  of 
it ;  that  Fairfax  girl,  for  instance.  I  wouldn't  give  her 
a  chance,  if  I  were  you." 

"  Don't  take  the  wind  all  out  of  my  sails,"  cried 
Ward,  and  hurried  out  of  the  room  before  she  could 
quiz  him  further.  He  didn't  want  to  give  Trix  too 
good  a  chance  to  say,  "  I  told  you  so." 

The  distance  across  the  fields  was  so  short  that 
Ward  often  walked  to  Fairfax's ;  and  he  did  so  this 
evening.  The  path  led  through  the  little  burial-ground 
in  the  meadow,  and  here  he  paused  for  a  time  inde- 
cisively before  taking  the  hillside  path  that  would  in 
three  minutes'  walk  conduct  him  to  her,,  and  also  to 
bliss  or  bitter  disappointment. 

He  felt  that  he  needed  a  little  leisure  to  reflect  and 
steady  himself,  for  somehow  he  felt  terribly  shaken  and 
nervous.  If  he  should  lose  her  after  all !  He  had 
never  met  with  any  out-and-out  disappointment  of  this 
kind  in  his  life,  but  from  his  great  lack  of  encourage- 
ment in  that  quarter,  he  thought  such  a  contingency 
appallingly  possible. 

He  sat  down  on  an  ancient  slab  near  the  gate,  partly 
screened  by  some  cedar  bushes,  and  gazed  at  the  old 
brick  house,  which  would  ere  long,  perhaps,  be  his. 


THE  SALE.  397 

He  was  too  much  his  father's  son  to  look  upon  the 
beautiful  old  farm-house  without  a  feeling  of  exulta- 
tion, now  that  it  was  coming  into  his  possession. 

Ward  had  not  waited  to  hear  the  result  of  the  sale 
before  leaving  home,  but  felt  perfectly  easy  as  to  the 
result.  Plans  for  improvement  began  to  form  in  his 
mind.  The  Fairfax  family  would  leave  soon  —  Syd 
would  see  to  that.  They  always  had  depended  upon 
Syd  ever  since  he  was  a  child,  and  he  was  not  likely 
now  to  throw  them  upon  Lele's  bounty.  He  devoutly 
wished  that  Syd  would  have  pride  enough  to  induce 
his  stubborn  old  step-father  to  emigrate  with  his  needy 
family  to  some  distant  corner  of  the  Union.  Ward 
had  but  a  limited  desire  to  have  all  his  wife's  relatives 
clinging  like  barnacles  to  his  family  ship  throughout 
his  life  voyage. 

But  while  Ward  is  so  happily  miserable,  how  speeds 
the  time  in  the  old  house  under  the  elms? 

Syd  had  let  the  dismal,  disheartening  morning  slip 
by  without  speaking  a  word  to  Lele.  He  knew  she 
had  not  yet  given  Ward  his  final  answer,  and  not  for 
worlds,  just  at  this  crisis,  would  he  have  influenced 
the  result  by  an  act,  word  or  deed.  Oh,  the  agony 
of  this  hopeless,  this  galling  poverty. 

Did  she  divine  his  reasons  for  keeping  aloof,  that 
she  could  remain  tranquil  through  the  long  hours  of 
that  still,  warm  September  day,  each  hour  of  which 
seemed  to  fill  the  space  of  two?  Perhaps  she  did. 

The  afternoon  hours  were  particularly  harrowing, 


39$  THE   MAN    WITH   THE    HOE- 

Any  moment  of  any  hour,  from  i  o'clock  to  5,  their 
home  might  be  changing  hands  at  the  steps  of  the 
county  court-house.  This  was  what  put  Lele  on  the 
rack,  and  made  the  day  one  to  be  remembered  for  its 
painfulness  through  life.  She  had  written  to  her  guar- 
dian, Mr.  Carpenter,  urging  him  to  come  or  send  a 
man  to  bid  it  in  for  her;  but  his  reply  had  not  been 
encouraging,  and  she  was  still  in  total  ignorance  as  to 
whether  he  would  send  a  bidder  to  the  sale.  Conse- 
quently she  dared  not  say  a  word  of  comfort,  for 
fear  of  rousing  groundless  hopes,  even  to  unhappy 
Jennie,  or  to  her  father,  who  was  prostrated  with  nerv- 
ous headache  and  not  able  to  leave  his  room. 

The  farm  had  been  pretty  extensively  advertised  at 
sheriff's  sale,  notwithstanding  the  short  notice,  and  a 
large  crowd  assembled  at  the  court-house  door  early 
in  the  afternoon.  There  was  other  business  to  transact, 
however,  and  it  was  past  4  o'clock  when  the  sale  began. 

Syd,  without  having  said  a  word  on  the  subject  at 
home,  had  completed  every  arrangement  with  the  loan 

and  real  estate  agent  of  the  L Bank  to  bid  it  in 

for  him,  and  he  was  prepared  to  bid  pretty  high  rather 
than  let  Mr.  Si  Collins  have  it.  True,  it  would  burden 
him  with  another  heavy  mortgage,  but  it  would  give 
him  for  some  years  undisputed  control  of  the  farm. 
He  could  keep  the  family  together  until  the  boys  were 
qualified,  by  what  educational  advantages  and  training 
he  could  give  them,  to  do  for  themselves,  and  by  adopt- 
ing certain  plans  that  he  had  long  wished  to  try,  he 


THE  SALE.  399 

believed  that  he  might  eventually  pay  off  the  mortgage. 
It  was  his  best,  almost  his  only  chance  to  get  on. 

The  sale  began.  Si  Collins  in  his  Sunday  best,  but 
with  the  inevitable  pipe  stuck  in  his  mouth,  was  in 
high  good  humor,  having  actually  committtd  the  rare 
extravagance  of  a  hotel  dinner  —  a  sure  indication  of 
good  spirits,  roused  by  the  prospect  of  a  profitable 
investment.  Syd  stood  near  him  with  an  air  of  ill- 
assumed  indifference.  He  felt  that  everything  he  had 
in  the  world  was  at  stake,  and  had  a  sickening  premoni- 
tion that  he  would  lose.  The  real-estate  man  had 
refused  to  bid  beyond  a  certain  figure.  If  it  went 
higher,  Syd  must  give  it  up.  He  had  not  been  able  to 
procure  any  other  aid. 

There  were  several  bidders  at  first,  Maud  St.  John's 
father  among  the  rest,  but  soon  the  bidding  was  lim- 
ited to  Mr.  Collins  and  the  real-estate  man.  Old  Si 
appeared  to  enjoy  the  sight  of  Syd's  colorless  face  and 
hollow  eyes.  He  made  his  bids  deliberately,  often  pur- 
posely hesitating  until  the  "  hammer  "  was  ready  to  fall 
before  raising  his  opponent's  bid. 

"  For  the  Lord's  sake,  don't  tantalize  him  any 
more,"  whispered  Ol  Stuart,  who  had  in  his  boyish 
heart  a  soft  spot  for  Cora's  brother.  "  Go  through 
with  a  rush,  can't  you  ?  This  is  a  confounded  shame." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  Ol ;  I'm  doin'  this,"  said  old 
Si,  and  he  made  another  deliberate  bid.  The  real- 
estate  man  raised  it  ten  dollars. 

"Another  bid  —  do  I  hear  it?"  yelled  the  auctioneer. 
"Going,  going" — 


4OO  THE   MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

"  Fifty  dollars  more !  "  shouted  old  Si. 

The  real-estate  man  shook  his  head  and  turned 
away,  while  Collins's  friends  gave  a  feeble  cheer,  and 
those  who  favored  Syd  and  had  been  watching  him 
sympathetically,  gave  vent  to  suppressed  sighs  and 
murmurs  of  disappointment.  Now  that  it  was  known 
that  he  had  hoped  to  become  a  purchaser  manv  of  the 
crowd  experienced  a  feeling  of  genuine  pity  for  him, 
and  expressed  regret  in  no  measured  terms  that  he 
could  not  have  been  successful  in  buying  it  in.  But 
Syd  waited  for  none  of  their  sympathy.  Heart-sick 
to  the  verge  of  faintness  with  disappointment,  he  turned 
and  hurried  from  the  scene. 

He  went  straight  home,  and  seeing  Lele's  white- 
robed  figure  slowly  climbing  the  path  to  the  burial- 
ground,  hurried  after  her  in  obedience  to  some  instinct 
which  made  him  wish  to  communicate  the  news  first 
of  all  to  her.  Jennie,  who  was  watching  for  him,  knew 
by  his  face  as  he  passed  the  house  that  his  tidings 
must  be  evil.  But  ignorant  of  his  plans  —  for  he  had 
not  dared  to  raise  false  hopes  by  mentioning  them  — 
she  had  felt  that  there  was  little  to  be  hoped  for,  and 
had  spent  the  whole  afternoon  in  tears. 

Before  Lele  reached  the  gate,  she  looked  back,  and 
seeing  Syd  approaching,  she  paused  till  he  came  up. 
One  glance  told  his  tale  of  defeat.  Not  a  word  was 
said,  but  both  walked  on  involuntarily  until  they 
reached  the  gate,  when  they  stopped  and  looked  once 
more  into  each  other's  pale  faces,  while  \Yard.  unseen, 


THE   SALE.  401 

gazed  at  them  from  his  position  on  the  slab,  as  though 
fascinated. 

"  I  saw.  you  coming  up  here,"  Syd  began,  mechan- 
ically, to  Lele,  "  and  thought  I  had  better  follow  you 
and  tell  you  our  bad  news  at  once.  Si  Collins  has 
bought  the  farm !  " 

Lele  gave  a  little  cry  of  despair.  Why  had  not 
her  guardian  given  her  the  help  she  so  much  needed? 
She  had  never  realized  until  now  how  much  she  had 
depended  upon  that  one  hope 

"  I  thought  I  could  perhaps  get  it,  myself,"  said 
Syd,  huskily,  and  drew  his  cap  down  over  his  eyes. 
"  I  took  your  advice  of  weeks  ago  about  getting  help 

from  the  L Bank,  you  remember."  He  would  not 

tell  her  that  he  had  thought  of  it  long  before  she 
mentioned  it.  "They  were  very  kind,  and  if  Mr.  Col- 
lins had  not  bid  so  high,  as  if  in  spite,  I  should  have 
secured  it,  and  been  able  to  pay  for  it  in  time." 

He  set  his  teeth  hard  to  suppress  a  groan.  It  was 
the  greatest  disapoointment  of  his  life,  and  until  this 
moment  he  had  never  realized  its  magnitude.  To  see 
Lele,  to  love  her,  and  to  be  driven  from  her  by  sheer 
force  of  circumstances,  was  worse  than  death. 

"  And  you  —  must  go  away  ?"  questioned  Lele,  as 
miserable  at  the  thought  as  himself. 

"  Yes,  very  soon.  None  of  us  care  to  stay  long 
under  his  roof." 

"  Oh,  Syd,  I  can't  realize  it.  To  think  you  should 
come  so  near  getting  the  farm  and  then  to  lose  it !  " 
cried  the  girl,  hardly  able  to  restrain  her  tears. 

(26) 


4O2  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

"  It  is  true,  though,  and  we  must  realize  it.  To- 
night I  intend  to  complete  all  arrangements  with  my 
step-father  for  breaking  up  and  leaving  here,  and  to- 
morrow I  shall  leave  for  the  West  to  look  up  a  loca- 
tion. The  others  will  join  me  as  soon  as  possible.  You 
and  Ed  "— 

He  was  interrupted  here. 

Ward  had  roused  himself  from  the  stupor  into 
which  astonishment  had  thrown  him,  and  had  come 
forward,  feeling  like  an  intruder,  but  elated  at  the 
ease  with  which  all  obstacles  to  his  future  peace  of 
mind  had  been  removed.  Since  sitting  on  the  slab 
he  had  been  assailed  by  a  few  fears  that  some  untoward 
event  might  arise  which  would  serve  as  a  barrier  yet 
between  him  and  Lele  —  such  as  the  possibility  of 
Syd's  gaining  control  of  the  farm  in  some  totally  unex- 
pected way.  He  thanked  Fortune  —  his  god  —  that 
no  such  contingency  had  arisen.  It  would  be  a  clear 
"  walk-over  "  with  him  the  rest  of  the  way ! 

His  day  dreams  would  be  speedily,  fully  realized. 
In  a  few  more  weeks  "  old  Ome  "  and  his  "  kids " 
would  be  hundreds  of  miles  away  — cared  for  by  loyal 
old  Syd.  Truly  it  was  better  to  be  born  lucky  than 
wise.  Syd,  with  twice  his  brain  and  will-power,  had 
never  been  lucky  in  anything,  while  everything  all  his 
life  long  had  seemed  to  turn  to  Ward's  advantage  with- 
out an  effort  on  his  part.  Even  as  he  pitied  poor  old 
Syd,  Ward  thanked  his  deity.  Fortune,  that  his  lines 
had  fallen  in  more  pleasant  places.  Now  that  the  farm 


THE   SALE.  403 

was  his,  he  was  sure  of  Lele.  Luck  was  at  high  tide 
with  him  and  sweeping  all  before  it. 

So,  too,  thought  Syd  when  he  saw  Ward  coming 
toward  him,  and  his  heart  sank  yet  lower.  The  con- 
trast just  then  between  his  forlorn  friendlessness  and 
Ward's  exuberant  hopefulness  was  as  great  as  can  bo 
imagined.  Syd,  threadbare  and  shorn  of  every  hope, 
felt  himself  a  mere  nonentity  beside  Ward,  who  seemed 
to  abound  in  every  grace  that  can  make  a  man  attractive 
in  woman's  eye.  The  very  tone  in  which  he  spoke 
added  another  to  the  long  list  of  his  attractions. 

"  I  couldn't  help  hearing  what  you  were  saying  — 
about  the  sale,  and  all,"  he  said,  "  and  I'm  awfully 
sorry  things  have  happened  so.  Believe  me,  Syd,"  he 
almost  felt  at  the  moment  that  this  was  true,  "  I  would 
induce  my  father  to  give  up  the  farm  yet  to  you  if  I 
could.  But  you  know  what  he  is  —  hard  as  flint !  I 
can't  do  anything  with  him.  Only  what  lies  in  my 
power  I  can  do.  And  if  Lele  —  Miss  Fairfax  —  will 
give  me  the  right  " — 

He  stopped,  confused,  his  ears  tingling,  his  eyes 
fixed  on  Lele  imploringly.  She  tried  to  speak,  but 
could  not,  and  Syd  stood  looking  at  him,  uncompre- 
hendingly. 

"  You  both  know,  I  guess,  what  brought  me  here 
this  evening,"  he  went  on,  looking  appealingly  at  Lele 
again  and  taking  her  hand.  "  Lele  —  oh,  do  give  me 
the  right  to  speak,  to  tell  Syd  how  truly  I  shall  care 
for  your  happiness  always." 

"  I  can  not."  she  gently  said,  withdrawing  her  hand. 


404  THE    MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

"  Ward,  I  like  you  very,  very  much,  but  I  can  not, 
can  not  love  you.  Your  wife  I  can  never  be." 

Did  his  ears  deceive  him?  Her  words  had  no 
meaning  to  him,  for  he  was  like  one  stunned.  He  was, 
however,  silent  for  a  moment  only.  Like  one  in  a 
dream,  Syd  heard  him  go  on,  pleadingly: 

"  Only  think  what  I  have  to  offer  you.  If  you 
marry  me,  I'll  give  you  a  deed  for  this  farm  as  a  wed- 
ding gift !  You  needn't  see  your  father's  family  scat- 
tered. I'll  help  Syd  and  all  of  them.  They  shan't 
have  to  leave  Pennsylvania,  or  even  the  old  farm,  for 
that  matter.  Oh,  Lele,  how  can  you  refuse  all  this 
when  they  need  your  help  so?" 

Ward  was  in  a  mood  just  then  to  promise  her  the 
Persian  Empire,  if  she  had  wanted  it.  All  his  life  he 
had  promised  and  failed  to  pay  his  vows,  but  how 
could  she  know  that?  It  raised  his  hopes  to  see  that 
his  last  proposition  had  a  certain  weight  with  Lele. 
For  the  first  time  he  saw  her  hesitate,  and  the  color 
come  and  go  uncertainly  in  her  cheeks,  and  in  the  lips 
which  she  vainly  tried  to  keep  from  quivering.  And 
now  when  he  took  her  hand  she  did  not  repulse  him. 
At  this  Syd  nearly  fainted.  He  felt  that  the  scene 
could  end  in  but  one  way,  with  Ward's  face,  voice  and 
worldly  prospects  all  to  plead  for  him. 

"  I  think  you  can  decide  this  better  without  me," 
he  said,  turning  away. 

A  small,  white  hand  that  trembled  like  a  rose-leaf 
in  the  wind  rested  detainingly  on  his  arm,  and  a  pair 
of  appealing  sweet  brown  eyes  looked  into  his. 


THE  SALE.  405 

"  You  want  me  to  marry  him  ?"  she  breathed,  rather 
than  spoke. 

"  I  want  you  to  be  happy,"  said  Syd,  faintly.  He 
felt  that  he  could  not  endure  another  minute  of  this. 

Lele  turned  to  Ward  again. 

"  Ward,  I  have  already  answered  you,"  she  said, 
gently.  "  You  must  not  speak  to  me  of  this  again. 
I  can  not  be  tempted  by  any  prospect  of  worldly  gain, 
for,  as  you  know,  I  do  not  love  you,  and  I  will  not 
pretend  what  I  do  not  feel.  We  have  lost  all  now 
and  can  afford  to  be  brave." 

"  And  you  will  never  marry  me."  Ward  had  lost, 
after  all! 

"  I  will  never  marry  without  love,  not  even  in  order 
to  be  able  to  help  those  dearer  than  life  itself.  A  mo- 
ment ago  I  thought  I  could.  But  that  is  past.  Some 
better  way  will  be  found  to  help  them." 

War*d  turned  away  without  a  word  and  hurried 
homeward  in  a  maze  of  wonder  and  defeat. 

After  he  was  gone  Lele  stood  irresolute  a  moment, 
looking  down.  Why  did  Syd  stand  so  like  a  marble 
statue  oblivious  to  her  presence?  Was  it  for  Maud 
that  he  had  been  so  anxious  to  win  the  old  home? 
And  was  the  agitation  she  had  witnessed  but  the  effect 
of  despair  at  losing  what  Miss  St.  John  would  have 
considered  necessary  to  her  happiness? 

Lele  had  refused  Ward,  first  because  she  did  not 
and  could  not  love  him ;  but  also  because,  as  she  deeply 
felt,  she  did  and  could  love  Syd.  And  he  cared  nothing 
for  her  after  all !  There  rushed  through  her  mind  all 


406  THE    MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

his  coldness,  his  avoidance  of  her  during  days  and 
weeks,  and  especially  that  never-to-be-forgotten  scene 
in  the  orchard.  As  she  thought  of  this  she  turned 
away. 

It  was  only  when  he  found  that  she  was  going  that 
he  roused  himself  to  speak. 

"  Oh,  Lele !  Don't  leave  me.  I  —  must  tell  you  — 
something." 

He  spoke  hurriedly,  and  yet  with  pauses  between 
the  words,  for  though  he  seemed  calm,  he  spoke  with 
desperate  effort. 

"  You  did  right,"  he  went  on,  "  to  refuse  Ward  if 
you  really  did  not  care  for  him.  Love  is  truly  '  the 
greatest  thing  in  the  world/  the  only  thing  worth  living 
and  dying  for,  as  I  now  know.  And  I  see  at  last  that 
no  man,  however  poor,  has  a  right  to  love  a  girl  as  I 
love  you,  and  not  —  tell  her  of  it ;  Oh,  Lele !" 

He  held  out  his  arms  pleadingly,  but  she  stepped 
back. 

"  You  did  not  love  me,  Syd,  when  —  when  you 
spoke  of  me  to  papa  in  the  orchard,"  she  protested. 

"  I  loved  you  then  as  much  as  I  do  now,"  he  pas- 
sionately declared.  "  That  is  to  say,  as  much  as  I  love 
my  own  soul.  But  I  could  not  —  oh,  Lele,  darling, 
don't  you  see  ?  I  feared  to  have  you  sacrifice  yourself 
through  pity  for  me  or  loyalty  to  duty." 

"  I  don't  think  I  am  quite  that  sort  of  person,"  she 
said,  demurely. 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  are."  His  tone  suddenly 
changed,  and,  stepping  back,  he  folded  his  arms. 


THE;  SALE.  407 

"  Miss  Fairfax,  I  had  forgotten.  I  have  a  confession 
to  make." 

"  Previous  love  affairs  ?"  questioned  Lele,  in  evident 
alarm. 

"  I  have  already  told  you  of  my  foolish  fancy  for 
Maud.  That  didn't  last  long  after  it  was  put  to  a  fair 
test.  Something  far  worse." 

He  stood  for  a  long  minute  looking  at  her  with  a 
deprecating  expression  in  his  dark  eyes.  Finally  he 
said,  very  low: 

"  Lele,  I  twice  decided  to  marry  you  for  your 
money." 

"  I  suspected  it,"  said  Lele,  in  the  same  tone. 

"  You  had  not  been  in  the  house  three  hours  before 
I  began  to  form  a  plan  for  robbing  you  of  your  aunt's 
money.  It  was  almost  as  though  you  had  fallen  in 
with  Italian  bandits,  Lele." 

"  I  was  secretly  warned." 

"  What  did  you  think  of  me  ?" 

"  I  regarded  you  with  contempt." 

"  You  did  right.  But  I  repented,  and  I  think  you 
forgave  me.  In  this  place,  on  the  first  Sunday  of  your 
visit,  I  think  it  was." 

"And  the  second  time?" 

"On  the  night  of  the  party  at  St.  John's  —  just 
before  you  saw  the  gorilla  at  your  window.  Do  you 
remember  our  encounter  in  the  hall?" 

"  I  remember  it."  Lele's  cheeks  glowed  with  a 
deeper  crimson.  Was  she  ever  likely  to  forget  an 
evening  fraught  with  blissful,  if  groundless,  hopes? 


408  THT;  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE. 

"  The  shock  T  experienced  when  I  learned  what 
peril  you  had  escaped,  completely  transformed  my  sen- 
timents toward  you.  In  short,  I  fell  instantly  dead  in 
love  with  you,  Lele.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  such  a 
thing?" 

"  I  think  I  have  known — something  like  it."  Lele's 
confusion  was  so  delicious  that  no  mortal  man  in  Syd's 
position  could  have  held  firmly  to  his  resolution  of 
keeping  at  arm's  length  until  he  had  done  suitable  pen- 
ance by  confessing  all  his  shortcomings.  Syd  did  not. 
When  the  confessions  were  resumed  they  were  seated 
side  by  side  on  the  slab  Ward  had  so  lately  quitted,  and 
not  at  arm's  length,  either ! 

"  I  fell  desperately  in  love  with  you,"  he  presently 
resumed,  "  and  from  that  hour  the  sense  of  my  con- 
temptible meanness  in  wishing  to  rob  you  of  your  poor 
little  fortune  never  gave  me  a  moment's  peace.  It  was 
not  until  I  began  to  love  you  for  your  own  sweet  sake  " 
(here  occurred  a  digression)  "  that  I  saw  my  conduct 
as  it  would  appear  to  you,  and,  in  fact,  to  every  one. 
After  that  I  would  not,  I  could  not,  bear  to  have  it  said 
that  it  was  for  your  money  I  married  you." 

"  If  the  money  is  a  real  obstacle,"  said  Lele,  saucily, 
"  I  might  remove  it  by  means  of  a  charitable  donation 
or  something." 

"  Don't  laugh  at  me,  dear.  If  I  had  anything  to 
offer  you " —  He  stopped  short  and  sighed.  The 
shadow  that  had  momentarily  lifted  settled  on  his  face 
again. 

"  If   you   had   bank    stock    and    land,"    said    Lele, 


THE;  SALE.  409 

straightening  his  necktie,  which  was  fearfully  awry, 
"  instead  erf  the  finest  character  in  the  world  and  the 
best  heart,  how  much  better  it  would  be !" 

"  Bank  stock  and  land  have  a  value  which  you  are 
too  unworldly  and  inexperienced  to .  recognize.  But, 
my  dear  girl,  they  are  things  which  a  man  must  have 
before  he  has  any  right  to  think  of  marriage,  or  to  ask 
a  woman  to  wait  long  years  for  a  union  which  may 
never  be." 

"  That  means,"  thought  Lele,  with  a  sinking  heart, 
"  that  rather  than  compromise  his  foolish  pride  we  are 
to  spend  our  whole  lives  apart." 

"  No,  sweetheart,"  Syd  replied,  exactly  as  though 
she  had  spoken.  "  I  can  not  believe  yet  that  independ- 
ence is  for  me  a  thing  unattainable.  I  mean  to  do  my 
utmost  to  earn  a  home  of  my  own  somewhere  in  the 
west,  and  then  perhaps  it  might  not  seem  presumptuous 
to  ask  you  to  share  it.  Till  then,  may  I  keep  this  little 
talisman,"  taking  from  her  hand  a  crumpled  four- 
leaved  clover  which  she  had  just  plucked,  "to  remind 
me  that  I  do  not  hope  in  vain  ?" 

They  looked  into  each  other's  eyes,  and  in  that 
moment  all  doubts  of  each  other  were  swept  from  their 
hearts  forever. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 
How  THE  DAY  ENDED  FOR  WARD  AND  SYD. 

And  Ward? 

His  disappointment  was  indescribable,  and  I  grieve 
to  say  reached  a  yet  more  melancholy  climax  than  I 
have  related. 

As  he  reached  the  gate  at  home  he  almost  ran  over 
his  evil  genius,  Morris  St.  John. 

Morris  was  not  the  best  friend  Ward  had  ever  had, 
or  indeed  the  best  a  young  man  of  principle  could  wish 
to  have.  But  as  Maud's  elder  brother,  and  Trix's 
"  regular  company,"  he  had  been  with  Ward  quite  a 
good  deal,  and  his  influence  upon  the  irresponsible 
youth  was  beginning  to  tell. 

"  In  heaven's  name,  what  ails  you,  boy  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  feel  as  though  I'd  been  ground 
up,"  said  Ward,  hardly  able  to  articulate.  "  Oh,  Mor- 
ris !  is  this  your  buggy  ?  Take  me  away  somewhere 
till  I  get  my  senses  together.  I  don't  want  Trix  to 
see  me  just  now,  for  I  can't  bear  her  quizzing." 

"You've  been  jilted  by  that  brown-eyed  Fairfax 
girl,"  said  Morris,  contemptuously. 

Ward  tried  feebly  to  deny  it,  but  the  adroit  Morris 
soon  had  the  whole  story. 

"  No  harm  done,  I  guess,"  he  said,  lightly.  "  We'll 

(410) 


HOW   THE  DAY    ENDED   FOR    WARD    AND   SYD.         4! I 

stop  at  Heider's  saloon  and  have  a  brandy  and  soda. 
I  guess  that  will  steady  your  nerves  a  little." 

"  But,  Morris,  I  don't  drink,"  protested  Ward, 
feebly,  as  Morris  hitched  the  horse  in  front  of  a  saloon 
in  the  nearest  town. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  Morris,  "we'll  get  in 
at  the  back  door,  if  you're  too  moral  to  enter  from  the 
street." 

Ward  kept  protesting,  but  Morris  soon  had  him 
in  the  saloon  parlor,  with  several  bottles  on  the  table. 

"  Morris,  I  call  this  dog-mean,"  said  Ward,  peev- 
ishly. "  You  know  I  despise  this  sort  of  thing." 

"Only  thing  you  can  do,"  declared  Morris.  "Three 
or  four  glasses  of  tiptop  liquor  will  make  a  fellow  for- 
get a  head-full  of  love  troubles.  I've  tried  it." 

Ward  took  a  few  sips,  and  feeling  somewhat 
revived,  consented  to  swallow  a  few  more.  After  that 
he  regained  his  spirits,  and  —  the  next  day  had  a  gen- 
uine excuse  for  not  facing  the  quizzing  eyes  of  the 
family.  Morris  took  care  of  him. 

"  You'll  get  over  this  attack,"  he  said. 

"  But  I'll  not  get  over  your  cure,  confound  you," 
sighed  Ward. 

"  You  don't  always  propose  to  be  a  girl-boy  with 
curls  and  rosy  cheeks,  do  you,  Polly?  I  should  think 
you  were  old  enough  to  begin  to  assert  your  manhood 
a  little,  and  not  mope  and  write  poetry  and  lose  your 
spirits  over  a  deuced  girl." 

"  The  love  I  had  for  Lele  Fairfax  was  too  pure  and 
holy  to  be  drowned  in  this  way,  Morris,"  said  Ward. 


412  THE   MAN   WITH   THE   HOE. 

"  Pure  and  holy  fiddlesticks !"  said  Morris.  "  There 
are  others  —  lots  of  them.  And,  Polly,  it  would  have 
spoiled  your  whole  life  to  have  tied  yourself  to  that 
little  goody-goody  nun.  You've  got  to  see  life  a  little 
before  you  make  your  final  choice." 

"  I'd  rather  not  see  life  with  you,  Morris.  I  wish 
I  had  old  Syd  for  mentor  again.  He  always  kept  me 
straight." 

"  I'd  hoe  my  own  row,  then,  if  I  was  so  partic- 
ular." 

"I  —  can't !  "  sighed  Ward. 

I  am  sorry  to  leave  my  blue-eyed  hero  in  company 
so  little  calculated  to  improve  him.  But  even  on  the 
farm  a  young  man  without  fixed  principles  is  in  sad 
danger,  be  he  as  popular  as  Ward  Collins,  or  friend- 
less as  poor  Ed  Fairfax.  And  the  time  is  coming 
when  Ward  and  Ed,  and  even  Syd,  must  vanish  into 
the  myth-land  that  lies  beyond  the  closing  chapter  of 
a  novel.  We  have  time  for  but  few  more  glimpses  of 
their  familiar  faces  before  we  leave  them  to  make 
their  way  in  the  world  unseen  by  us,  but  not  therefore 
idle  or  inactive. 

Let  us  wish  them  success. 

******* 

When  Syd  and  Lele  returned  to  the  house,  on  that 
memorable  evening,  the  first  person  that  they  saw  was 
Lele's  guardian,  Mr.  Carpenter,  calmly  taking  snuff  on 
the  veranda. 

"  Oh,  guardy !  "  exclaimed  Lele. 


HOW    THE   DAY    ENDED    FOR    WARD    AND   SYD.         413 

Mr.  Carpenter  placidly  replaced  his  snuff-box  i:i 
his  vest-pocket. 

"  I  hope,  my  dear  child,  that  you  are  not  sorry  to 
see  me,"  he  said,  shaking  hands  with  his  ward.  "  I 
confess  I  thought  you  would  be  rather  glad,"  looking 
kindly  at  L,ele,  whose  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  she  lifted 
them  to  his  face. 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  Carpenter,  I  am  glad,"  she  cried, 
making  a  supreme  effort  to  greet  him  cheerfully ;  "  but 
if  you  only  could  have  come  in  time  to  save  our  home 
from  Mr.  Si  Collins,  as  I  " —  and  the  sentence  ended 
in  an  irrepressible  sob.  The  future  began  once  more 
to  show  appalling  possibilities. 

"  My  child,  that  is  exactly  what  I  did.  Don't  cry 
and  I'll  explain,"  said  the  old  lawyer,  deliberately.  "  I, 
of  course,  took  particular  pains  to  investigate  matters 
before  venturing  to  invest  your  small  fortune  in  land, 
as  I  had  it  safe  for  you  where  it  was  " — 

"  But  you  did  invest  it  for  me,  as  I  suggested !  " 
cried  Lele,  half-delirious  with  joy. 

"  I  did ;  but  be  patient,  for  I  have  to  state  the  facts 
in  my  own  way.  I  sent  a  reliable  man  to  examine  the 
farm  quietly,  but  with  care,  and  at  the  last  moment,  in 
response  to  your  frantic  appeals  for  aid,  (I  think  there 
were  a  dozen  tear-blots  on  your  letter),  concluded  to 
come  myself  and  buy  it  in  for  you  at  any  price,  though 
I  thought  best  to  keep  strictly  incognito  until  the  sale 
was  over,  and  for  that  reason  would  not  allow  even 
you  to  know  I  was  to  be  present,  lest  you  should  divulge 
the  secret."  (Mr.  Carpenter  had  imbibed  secret  fears 


414  THE   MAN    WITH    THlv    HOU. 

of  Lele's  father,  from  her  uncle  probably.)  "  Learning 
in  a  round-about  way  that  this  young  gentleman,"  lav-- 
ing his  hand  on  Syd's  shoulder,  "  also  had  his  eye 
on  the  farm,  I  thought  it  only  right  to  give  him  a 
fair  show,  and  did  not  bid  against  him.  When  he 
retired  so  discomfited  (to  the  regret,  I  believe,  of  most 
of  the  bystanders)  I  could  see  th.at  Mr.  Collins  thought 
the  farm  was  his.  Then  the  fun  began !  For  I  was 
determined  that  if  your  worthy  friend,  Mr.  Collins, 
got  the  farm,  he  should  pay  every  penny  it  was  worth. 
He  saw  this  at  last,  and  retired  in  disgust,  leaving 
me  master  of  the  field,  and  you  —  mistress  of  flic 
farm !" 

"Mr.  Carpenter!  how  can  I  ever  thank  you 
enough?"  cried  the  delighted  girl,  hardly  knowing 
whether  to  laugh  or  cry  in  the  intensity  of  her  joy. 

"  Your  best  thanks  will  be  shown  by  finding  me 
a  good  tenant,"  replied  Mr.  Carpenter,  glancing  at 
Syd.  "  From  what  I  hear,  I  fancy  Mr.  McKnight  will 
exactly  suit." 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  Syd,  rapidly  changing  color, 
as  an  appealing  glance  from  Lele  reached  him.  "  I 
have  already  formed  my  plans  for  the  future,  and  they 
include  a  settlement  in  the  West,  where  I  hope  to  do 
better  for  myself  than  I  can  here.  But  I  shall  see  that 
you  secure  a  first-class  tenant,  sir." 

"  Oh,  Syd  !  "  whispered  Lele,  reproachfully.  "  Will 
you  refuse  to  be  my  tenant?" 

"  I'll  consider  the  —  position,"  Syd  responded,  with 
a  half  smile.  Proud  as  he  was,  it  was  out  of  his 


HOW    THE   DAY    ENDED    FOR    WARD    AND    SVD.         415 

power  to  refuse  any  request  Lele  was  likely  to  make. 

"  And,  Lelia,  I  must  not  forget  to  tell  you,  as  your 
decision  is  needed  at  once,  that  there  is  a  vacancy  in 
one  of  our  schools  which  must  be  filled  soon,  and  you 
are  requested  to  fill  the  same,  if  you  can,  at  a  week's 
notice.  The  salary  is  $600  a  year/  with  a  chance  of 
increase  with  success." 

"  And  I  shall  not  see  you  till  next  summer !"  said 
Syd  aside  to  Lele,  when  she  had  gleefully  accepted  and 
sent  off  a  dispatch  to  that  effect. 

"  No.  I'd  rather  stay  here,"  said  Lele,  involun- 
tarily. Then  her  cheeks  flamed. 

"  If  I  had  bought  the  farm,  you  should  not  have 
gone  to  St.  Louis  to  teach  school  —  and  left  me,"  he 
replied ;  "  but  there  isn't  anything  else  to  be  done,  I 
guess,"  he  added,  regretfully. 

"  I  don't  see,"  said  Lele,  with  drooping  lashes, 
"  that  it  matters  which  of  us  has  the  farm." 

"Don't  you?  It  matters  a  great  deal  to  me.  We 
can't  be  married,  Lele  Fairfax,  until  I  own  this  farm." 

"  Oh !  If  you  are  determined  to  purchase,  I'll  sell 
it  for  a  mere  song,  Syd  —  one  dollar  and  love  and 
affection,"  she  added,  saucily. 

"  I  don't  buy  on  those  terms,"  said  Syd.  Then, 
as  they  happened  to  be  alone  together  for  a  minute 
or  two,  he  kissed  her  and  told  her,  with  a  sigh,  that 
she  was  a  thousand  times  too  good  to  engage  herself 
to  a  beggar  like  him. 

"  Yes ;  I'm  too  good,  I  know,"  retorted  Lele,  in  her 
sweetest  tones,  "  especially  as  you  are  the  only  man 


416  THE    MAN    WITH    THIS    HOE. 

I  ever  saw  that  I  couldn't  keep  from  falling1  in  love 
with  to  save  my  life.  And,  Syd,  I  tried  so  hard." 
She  slipped  out  of  his  arms  and  flew  up-stairs  to 
impart  the  good  news  to  Jennie,  who  had  been  trying 
for  the  last  half-hour  to  calm  herself  sufficiently  to 
descend  and  learn  the  result  of  the  sale  before  begin- 
ning to  prepare  supper. 

Excited  as  she  was,  it  was  some  time  before  Lele 
could  make  her  realize  that  it  was  she  who  had  bought 
the  farm,  and  that  Syd  (despite  his  penchant  for  the 
"great  and  glorious  West")  was  to  be  coaxed  into 
accepting  the  care  of  it  for  three-fifths  of  all  it  could 
be  made  to  produce. 

"  And  now,  Jinsey,  darling,  don't  sit  there  pinching 
your  arm  to  convince  yourself  that  you  are  not  dream- 
ing," added  Lele.  "  You  must  believe  what  I've  said, 
and  make  up  your  mind  to  go  to  Oxford  this  winter  to 
school ;  for  since  I'm  to  teach  this  winter,  I  can  afford 
to  send  you  and  Cora,  too.  Tucle  and  Ed  shall  spend. 
the  winter  with  me.  Syd  and  the  boys  will  have  rather 
a  lonely  winter  here,  but  I  guess  they  will  survive,  with 
Sally  Cahill's  good  cooking  to  sustain  them.  Father 
will  be  in  Harrisburg,  you  know." 

"  All  this  for  us !  "  exclaimed  Jennie,  with  pathetic 
incredulity.  "  Oh,  Lele,  you  arc  an  angel,"  and  she 
burst  into  tears.  When  she  was  calmer  they  discussed 
Lele's  plans,  which  Jennie  declared  were  far  too  gen- 
erous. 

"  It  will  take  nearly  all  you  make  to  keep  you  and 
Ed,"  she  said.  "  The  rest  of  us  will  do  very  well  here, 


HOW   THE  DAY    ENDED   FOR    WARD   AND   SYD.         417 

with  the  mortgage  off  our  hearts.     Why,  I  feel  ten 
years  younger  already !  " 

"  I  want  you  to  feel  young,  Jinsey.  I'm  thinking 
what  good  times  you'll  have  with  Nell  Malcolm,  Min- 
nie Howard,  and  all  the  girls  I  know  at  Oxford,  this 
winter." 

"  I  might  begin  studying  music  while  completing 
my  education,"  mused  Jennie. 

"  You  certainly  could." 

"  Oh,  Lele,  darling,  don't  tempt  me  to  think  of  it. 
I  know  you  can't  afford  it." 

"  Yes,  I  can.  I  shall  have  twelve  hundred  dollars  to 
spend  this  year,  and  Oxford  only  costs  a  hundred  and 
seventy,  you  know." 

"  But  you  couldn't  take  Ed  and  Tucle  to  Mr.  Car- 
penter's " — 

"  No ;  they'll  be  in  California.  We'll  board  at 
Mrs.  Raymond's,  or  I'll  rent  a  small  flat  and  have 
my  old  nurse  keep  house  for  us.  I  still  have  my  aunt's 
furniture,  and  it  costs  so  little  to  furnish  a  flat.  Our 
living  will  be  very  inexpensive.  I  know  I  can  save 
enough  to  send  you  and  Cora  both  to  school.  I  want 
you  to  be  as  happy  as  I  am  this  minute." 

"I  wish  I  could  be,"  said  Jennie,  wistfully.  "  I 
never  saw  any  one  as  happy  as  you  are  this  minute, 
Lele.  You  look  as  though  you  hadn't  a  wish  ungrat- 
ified." 

"  I  haven't,  really,"  said  Lele,  sitting  down  on  a 
footstool  and  laying  her  beautiful  head  in  Jennie's  lap. 
(27) 


418  THE   MAN    WITH   THE   HOE. 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  you  a  great  secret,  and  I  think  I 
can  trust  you  to  keep  it." 

"  You  are  going  to  marry  Ward,"  said  Jennie,  as 
calmly  as  she  could. 

"  Far  from  it,  my  dear.  I  leave  him  to  you.  It  is 
Syd  that  I  am  to  marry,  some  day,  after  he  has  made 
his  fortune.  He  is  too  proud  to  share  mine." 

And  Jennie  experienced,  perhaps  for  the  first  time, 
an  unqualified  joy  in  contemplating  another's  happi- 
ness. 

The  engagement,  however,  was  not  generally  an- 
nounced. Jean  was  the  only  one  entrusted  with  the 
secret.  Mr.  Carpenter,  even,  was  not  consulted,  still 
less  Mr.  Fairfax,  who  would  have  had  small  patience 
with  Syd's  (to  him)  incomprehensible  scruples.  The 
young  couple  both  thought  an  engagement,  which  must 
of  necessity  cover  several  years,  should  be  kept  secret 
from  all-  save  the  one  whose  happiness  was  most  inti- 
mately connected  with  Syd's. 


CHAPTER  XXXI.  • 
CONCLUSION. 

Sycl's  plans  for  the  future  were  again  upset  when 
he  found  that  Lele,  and  not  Si  Collins,  had  bought  the 
farm.  But,  since  he  had  spent  much  of  his  life  in 
forming  plans  which  were  afterward  overthrown  by 
circumstances  over  which  he  had  no  control,  he  very 
soon  gave  up  all  thoughts  of  going  West  and  consented 
to  become  Lele's  tenant. 

Mr.  Carpenter  at  once  gave  him  the  contract  for 
rebuilding  all  the  fences  and  putting  the  buildings  in 
repair.  Never  in  his  life  had  Syd  enjoyed  any  work 
more  than  he  did  the  clearing  away  of  those  cobbied-up 
rail  fences,  and  the  construction  of  long  lines  of  new 
picket-fence,  to  the  intense  disgust  of  Si  Collins,  who 
had  been  splitting  rails  for  years  to  use  on  the  Fairfax 
farm.  But  when  Collins  saw  that  all  the  fence  next 
his  line  was  being  built  "  three  feet  in,"  and  nothing 
said  about  "  his  half,"  he  was  ready  to  burst  with  rage. 

"  See  here,"  he  said  to  Syd  one  day,  "  I  ain't  goin' 
to  have  no  '  devils'  lane '  riext  my  farm.  I'll  keep  tip 
my  half  and  no  more." 

"  I  don't  care  what  you  keep  up."  Syd  retorted. 
"  I've  joined  fences  with  you  for  the  last  time;  and 
now,  mind,  if  any  of  your  stock  get  on  my  side  of  the 

(t'9) 


420  THE    MAN    WITH    THE   HOE. 

fence,  they  will  be  taken  up  and  you  can  pay  the  costs. 
I've  served  my  time  driving  stock  out  of  the  crops  for 
nothing." 

"  You  talk  very  large  for  a  hireling,"  blustered  old 
Si,  contemptuously. 

. "  I  have  leased  this  place  at  so  much  for  five  years," 
replied  Syd,  "  with  the  privilege  pf  buying,  if  I  choose. 
You  may  call  me  a  hireling  if  you  care  to,  but  don't 
come  on  this  side  of  the  line  to  insult  me." 

Si  Collins  went  off  muttering.  But  he  built  his 
line-fence  and  said  no  more  about  it. 

"  There's  no  use  tryin'  to  put  that  fellow  down," 
he  confided  to  his  wife ;  "  he's  got  a  start  up-hill  at  last, 
an'  blamed  if  I  don't  b'lieve  he'll  get  to  the  top  after  all. 
I  pulled  through  myself  after  a  hard  tussle,  an'  he's 
got  the  right  sort  of  grit,  too.  Wish't  Ward  had  more 
of  it." 

$  4*  .  i|t  $  4  $  4 

Lele  persisted  in  her  determination  to  send  Jennie 
and  Cora  to  Oxford  a  year,  and  having  completed  all 
arrangements  for  them,  and  securing  an  excellent 
housekeeper  for  Syd  and  the  boys  in  the  person  of 
Sally  Cahill  —  a  former  domestic  of  the  family  — 
whose  husband  was  to  work  for  Syd  by  the  month, 
she,  accompanied  by  little  Tude,  Ed  and  her  guardian, 
set  off  for  St.  Louis.  By  the  time  they  were  comfort- 
ably settled  in  a  flat,  with  Lele's  old  nurse  for  cook 
and  housekeeper,  it  was  time  to  begin  her  duties  in  the 
school-room. 

The  winter,  though  not  devoid  of  trials  and  perplex- 


CONCLUSION.  421 

ities,  was  by  no  means  barren  of  joy,  for  no  day  failed 
to  bring  a  letter  from  Syd,  nor  did  a  week  ever  pass 
without  a  budget  of  news  from  Jennie  and  Cora  and 
the  boys.  Mr.  Fairfax  wrote  occasionally,  and  seemed 
to  be  enjoying  himself  very  well  in  Harrisburg,  where 
he  spent  most  of  the  winter,  in  a  style  not  exactly 
becoming  in  a  gentleman  who  was  well-nigh  penniless 
and  whose  children  were  depending  upon  either  them- 
selves or  others  for  support. 

All  the  family  were  back  home  again  before  June 
except  Lele  and  Ed,  who  were  to  come  for  a  two  weeks' 
vacation,  in  August. 

The  year  was  propitious;  crops  were  never  better. 
When  Mr.  Carpenter  came  late  in  August  to  pass  judg- 
ment on  Lele's  tenant,  and  make  arrangements  for  the 
coming  year,  he  was  both  surprised  and  gratified  to 
find  the  appearance  of  the  farm  so  much  improved. 
The  fences,  which  had  given  so  much  trouble,  had 
been  superseded  by  new  ones;  the  buildings  were  in 
good  repair ;  crops  carefully  tended ;  implements  under 
shelter ;  stock  well  fed. 

"  McKnight,  you  are  a  capital'  fellow,"  he  said,  as 
he  and  Syd  strolled  over  the  fields  on  the  day  previous 
to  that  fixed  for  his  return.  "  I  never  saw  a  more 
careful  tenant,  and  you  farm  intelligently,  too  —  seem 
to  know  what  you're  about.  I  declare,  you  couldn't 
do  better  if  you  owned  the  land." 

"  I  take  pride  in  my  Work/  Syd  replied.  "  I  used 
to  think  farming  a  soul-dwarfing,  mind-shrivelling  pro- 
cess, and  almost  despised  myself  for  submitting  to  its 


422  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

pettifogging  details.      I   feel   different  now.      I   agree 
heartily  with  the  man  who  wrote — 

"  Who  puts  back  into  place  a  fallen  bar, 

Or  flings  a  rock  out  of  a  traveled  road, 
His  feet  are  moving  toward  the  central  star," 

Mr.  Carpenter,  I  am  proud  to  be  called  a  farmer." 

"  And  a  book  farmer  at  that,"  said  Mr.  Carpenter, 
with  a  smile. 

"  A  genuine  book  farmer  gets  more  out  of  life  than 
can  be  obtained  in  any  other  walk  of  life.  All  honor 
to  the  noble  army  of  men  who  are  trying  with  tongue 
and  pen  to  show  the  discouraged  tiller  of  the  soil  what 
real  book  farming  is." 

"  Yet  you  still  belong  to  the  tenant  class  of  book 
farmers." 

"  My  landlord  never  interferes  with  any  of  my 
plans,"  said  Syd,  with  a  smile ;  "  there  is  a  great  deal 
in  that." 

"  Your  land/ad_y,  you  had  better  say,"  retorted  Mr. 
Carpenter.  "  Lele  virtually  controls  the  farm,  and  I 
think  best  not  to  interfere,  as  she  is  a  clever  young 
woman,  and  has  a  tenant  who  can  be  trusted.  You 
two  appear  to  have  congenial  tastes,"  he  added,  sig- 
nificantly. "  I've  noticed  that  you  never  disagree  on 
any  subject." 

"  No,  we  never  disagree." 

"  My  ward  would  be  quite  a  belle  if  she  cared  for 
society  at  all,  but  she  goes  out  very  little,  and  I've  been 
told  that  she  declines  all  attentions  from  young  men. 


CONCLUSION. 


423 


She  is  an  odd  girl  —  painfully  odd.  And  she  could 
marry  so  well,  too,  if  she  chose !  " 

He  saw  Syd's  cheek  flush  darkly  and  a  pained  look 
dawn  in  his  eyes. 

"  She  ought  to  marry  instead  of  drudging  her  life 
out  in  that  school-room,"  Mr.  Carpenter  went  on.  "  I 
don't  know  what  the  girl  means." 

"  Then  she  has  never  told  you  that  I  —  that  we  " — 

"  She  has  told  me  nothing,  but  I  suspect  —  a  good 
deal." 

"  I  ought  to  have  told  you  before  that  she  has 
resolved  to  wait  until  I  have  a  home  to  offer  her." 

"  That  might  keep  her  from  sharing  a  much  better 
home  than  you  can  ever  hope  to  offer  her." 

"  I  know  it.  I  feel  —  in  every  way  unworthy  of 
her.  I  have  always  refused  to  bind  her  by  any  pos- 
itive engagement  until  I  could  see  my  way  to  inde- 
pendence." 

"  And  yet  she  owns  this  farm  and  lacks  only  my 
consent  to  her  marriage  to  place  it  at  your  disposal !  " 

"  I  will  never  be  dependent  upon  my  wife,  Mr.  Car- 
penter." 

"  Well,  you  match  Lele  for  oddity.  It  would  not 
be  a  bad  idea  if  you  and  she  were  to  marry." 

"  Would  you  advise  your  ward  to  marry  me  ?" 

Mr.  Carpenter  reflected  a  while. 

"  Why  not  ?"  he  finally  said.  "  You  are  more  equal 
now  in  reality  than  any  mere  financial  equality  can  ever 
make  you.  Fact  is,  Mr.  McKnight,  you  are  the  right 
sort  of  fellow  to  make  any  girl  a  good  husband,  and 


424  THE  MAN  WITH  THE;  HOE. 

I'rn  glad  she  has  the  sense  to  appreciate  you,"  he  added, 
with  great  heartiness. 

"  Thank  you."  Syd  blushed  like  a  girl  at  the  com- 
pliment. "  But  there  it  is,  you  see,"  he  sighed.  "  I'm 
not  going  to  have  people  suspect  that  I  married  Lele 
for  her  money." 

"  Oh,  she  hasn't  a  great  deal.  Most  of  it  is  invested 
in  this  land.  You  might  buy  it  in  yourself  if  you 
choose  to  let  your  wife  burden  you  with  a  mortgage !  " 

"  I  have  thought  of  that  and  spoken  of  it  to  her. 
Of  course,  I  won't  have  it  for  a  cent  less  than  it  is 
worth,  and  it  is  worth  more  now  than  when  she 
bought  it." 

"But  land  is  actually  selling  for  less  than  last  year. 
I  think  six  thousand  dollars  would  be  considered  a  fair 
price." 

"  I  had  some  money  in  the  estate,"  said  Syd, 
thoughtfully,  as  they  walked  on.  "  My  step-father 
allowed  me  five  hundred  dollars,  which  was  less  than 
I  put  in;  but  I  thought  I  ought  to  be  satisfied  with 
that,  as  he  hadn't  much  left  after  his  debts  were  paid. 
That,  with  what  I  shall  make  this  year,  would  enable 
me  to  make  a  payment  of  about  a  thousand  dollars 
down.  If  I  could  be  allowed  time  on  the  rest,  I  think 
I  could  pay  out  in  five  or  six  years." 

It  was  so  agreed.  .  Syd  bought  the  farm ;  Lele 
returned  to  her  school.  Jennie,  having  successfully 
passed  the  county  examination  for  a  teacher's  certifi- 
cate, began  teaching  in  order  to  secure  funds  to  defray 
the  musical  education  which  she  had  craved  so  long ; 


CONCLUSION.  425 

and  Cora  went  back  to  Oxford,  accompanied,  to  her 
great  delight,  by  Sue  Hubbard.  Their  joint  admirer 
Ol,  thus  left  to  his  own  devices,  spent,  as  he  declared, 
"  a  perfectly  awful  winter." 

"  With  you  two  girls  out  of  it,"  he  confided, 
"  Bethany  Ridge  isn't  worth  the  powder  to  blow  it  up." 

This  winter  Lele  had  both  Ed  and  Charlie  under 
her  care,  the  latter  being  a  pupil  in  one  of  the  public 
schools.  He  was  compelled  to  study  very  hard  to  keep 
up  with  his  class,  which  was  fortunate  for  Ed,  who  was 
still  rather  shy  of  Charlie's  "chaff,"  though  he  had 
himself  improved  in  many  ways. 

Lele  virtually  devoted  her  life  to  her  brothers,  out- 
side of  school  hours,  and  as  she  had  some  congenial 
friends  who  lent  their  aid,  there  was  not  much  that 
could  tempt  the  boys  to  spend  even  an  occasional  even- 
ing away  from  her  presence.  Ed  will  feel  as  long  as 
he  lives  that  he  owes  all  the  success  in  life  that  he  will 
ever  have  to  that  loving  sister's  influence,  "  just  at  a 
time  when  so  many  boys  miss  their  way,  never  to  find 
it  again."  He  abandoned  all  his  bad  habits,  devoted 
himself  to  his  trade,  and  became  at  last  a  brother  that 
even  Lele  could  be  proud  of.  "  But  that  is  another 
story." 

And  Jennie,  too,  had  profited  by  that  sweet  influ- 
ence, for  she  conquered  her  temper  at  last,  and  in  time 
became  a  very  noble  woman. 

June  came  around  again,  and  Syd  found  time  to 
pay  a  visit  to  St.  Louis.  There  was  a  very  quiet  wed- 
ding in  Mr.  Carpenter's  elegant  parlor  —  for  that  gen- 


426  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

tleman  insisted  that  the  ceremony  should  be  performed 
at  his  home  —  and  his  wife  gave  the  wedding  break- 
fast, which  was  spoken  of  in  the  morning  papers  as 
a  "  superb  collation."  Syd's  heart  failed  him  when  he 
contrasted  the  old  Pennsylvania  farm-house  with  Mr. 
Carpenter's  city  residence,  where,  had  she  chosen, 
Lele's  whole  life  might  have  been  spent  in  ease  and 
luxury. 

"  You've  utterly  thrown  yourself  away  on  me, 
Lele,"  he  said  later. 

They  were  at  Niagara,  walking  leisurely  through 
Prospect  Park. 

"Why,  Syd?" 

"  Your  life  at  Mr.  Carpenter's  would  have  been  so 
—  different,"  he  sighed. 

"  Yes ;  I  should  have  had  almost  everything  I 
wanted  but  —  you,"  she  said,  softly.  "  I  consider  I've 
made  a  fair  exchange,  and  if  I'm  satisfied,  you  surely 
ought  to  be." 

"  'Mother  bridal  couple,  bless  my  soul !  "  thought 
a  gouty  bachelor,  who  happened  to  be  passing.  "  This 
corner  of  the  world  is  too  full  of  them  for  me.  What's 
the  use  to  come  here  to  flout  their  confounded  happiness 
in  the  eyes  of  other  people?" 

Syd  had  glanced  pityingly  at  the  forlorn,  crabbed 
old  fellow,  and  wondered  what  he  had  ever  done  to  be 
worthy  of  rescue  from  a  similar  fate. 

"  And  to  think  that  she  loves  me,  after  all !  "  he 
reflected. 


CONCLUSION.  427 

They  left  for  home  a  day  or  two  later,  and  at  the 
little  station  a  genuine  surprise  awaited  them.  The 
station  agent  handed  them  a  sealed  letter,  which  they 
lost  no  time  in  reading: 

"Mv  DEAR  OLD  SYD  AND  LELE: 

"Just  'round  the  corner  you  will  find  Venus  hitched  to 
your  buggy.  I  lost  Di  last  week  and  it  seemed  a  judgment 
on  me  for  the  mean  tricks  I  had  served  you  in  getting  Venus 
away  from  your  stepfather.  So  I  give  her  back  to  you,  for  I 
know,  Syd,  that  you  never  regretted  anything  more  than  the 
loss  of  her.  I  know  now  how  to  sympathize  with  you  as  I 
never  did  befoie,  for  one  may  become  attached  even  to  a 
horse. 

"  Lele,  my  dear  friend,  it  took  me  two  years  to  get  over 
the  little  scene  in  the  graveyard.  I  felt  heartbroken,  then, 
but  after  all  you  never  led  me  on,  as  some  girls  would  have 
done,  never  gave  me  any  real  encouragement.  I  am  glad 
now  that  it  was  Syd  rather  than  any  other  fellow  who  won 
your  heart,  for  I  know  how  good  and  true  he  is,  far  nobler 
than  I  can  ever  be. 

' '  Ever  your  f riend, 

"WARD." 

"  Syd,"  said  Lele,  with  misty  eyes,  "  if  Ward  had 
been  half  the  man  then  that  he  is  now,  I  don't  know 
but  that  he  might  have  won  my  love  while  you  were 
concealing  yours  in  horror  of  my  little  fortune.*' 

"  I'm  glad  his  best  traits  developed  late  in  life, 
then,"  Syd  replied,  laughingly.  "  But  I  like  to  believe 
that  you  were  foreordained  to  be  my  wife,  and  couldn't 
have  been  anybody's  else.  Besides,  as  to  Ward,  there's 
room  for  improvement  in  the  old  fellow  yet,  if  all 
reports  are  to  be  believed." 


428  THE;  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE. 

"  Jennie  can  see  no  room  for  improvement,  I 
imagine,"  said  Lele. 

"  No ;  since  she  is  home  from  school  this  spring, 
Ward  is  all  devotion.  I'm  sorry  to  see  it,  for  while 
I've  always  liked  Ward  (except  as  a  rival!),  I  must 
say  it  would  be  a  pity  to  see  a  talented  girl  like  Jen 
marry  a  son  of  Si  Collins." 

"  You  and  Jennie  together  could  keep  him  straight." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  a  barn  stand  a  gale  that  had  to 
be  propped  on  both  sides?  Well,  I  never  did.  There 
are  breakers  ahead  for  Ward,  and  more  trouble  for  a 
wife  of  Jen's  temperament  than  you  would  imagine, 
judging  him  by  what  he  was  when  you  knew  him. 
Morris  St.  John  has  had  him  in  hand  for  two  years." 

"  It  hasn't  helped  him  any,  I  am  sure." 

"  I  should  think  not.  I  hate  to  criticise  the  dear 
old  fellow  when  I'm  driving  Venus  as  his  gift.  God 
knows  I  wish  him  well,  and  if  there's  anything  under 
the  sun  that  I  can  do  to  help  him,  I'll  go  out  of  my 
way  to  do  it.  The  worst  of  it  is,  he's  about  as  little 
to  be  depended  on  as  a  live  wire,  or  a  balance-wheel  out 
of  balance,  or  an  automobile  in  the  hands  of  a  million- 
aire. And  now,"  he  added  in  a  happier  tone,  "  let's 
talk  of  something  better  worth  while  than  finding  fault 
with  neighbors  who  send  us  such  lovely  bridle  presents. 
Lele,  how  does  Ed's  religion  hold  out?" 

"  All  right.  It  was  the  only  thing  that  could  ever 
have  made  a  man  of  him.  You  used  to  be  skeptical 
yourself,  Syd,  I  remember." 

"  Yes,  in  the  dark  days  of  hopeless  drudgery.     It 


CONCLUSION.  429 

was  enough  to  try  any  man's  faith.  Thank  Heaven, 
that's  all  past  now.  I  expect  to  live  and  die  a  Chris- 
tian." 

Arrived  at  home  in  the  soft  summer  twilight,  Lele 
seemed  the  very  embodiment  of  happiness  as  she  stood 
on  the  veranda  under  the  fragrant  honeysuckles  and 
received  the  congratulations  of  the  friends  who  were 
assembled  to  greet  her,  among  them  Ward,  looking 
as  gay  and  handsome  as  ever ;  and  Maud,  still  the  belle 
of  the  Ridge,  though  Rumor  said  that  Jennie  McKnight 
might  successfully  have  contested  with  her  for  su- 
premacy had  the  latter  cared  to  try,  for  Jennie  had 
wonderfully  improved  during  these  two  years,  and 
Maud's  blonde  beauty  was  beginning  to  fade.  That 
young  lady  had  captivated  a  new  beau  at  this  time  — 
a  young  lawyer  from  Harrisburg  —  and  seemed  totally 
indifferent  to  her  former  admirers,  Ward  and  Keith, 
who  were  respectively  attentive  to  Jennie  and  Alice 
Stuart. 

The  faithless  Ol  was  scattering  smiles  and  witti- 
cisms on  all  sides,  but  his  choicest  were  still  impar- 
tially divided  between  Cora  and  Sue  Hubbard,  who 
were  inseparable  chums,  as  of  old. 

The  old  farm-house,  if  not  much  changed  exter- 
nally, was  greatly  improved  within,  fqr  snowy  curtains 
had  replaced  the  old  faded  hangings ;  new  paper  bright- 
ened the  walls,  and  new  carpets  added  to  the  comfort 
and  elegance  of  the  rooms. 

Ward  greeted  the  bridal  party  very  cordially, 
though  with  no  allusion  to  Venus,  whom  the  whole 


43O  THE    MAN    WITH    THE    HOE. 

family  welcomed  home  almost  as  gladly  as  they  did 
Lele  herself. 

"  You're  a  brick,  you  are,  to  give  Venus  back  to 
Syd,"  Charlie  exclaimed.  "  I  hope  every  timber  I've 
got  will  be  shivered  to  splinters  if  I  ever  call  you  stingy 
again." 

Ward  laughed,  and  then  sighed  as  Syd  added  his 
thanks  to  Charlie's. 

"Don't  mention  it  again,  old  man,"  he  said.  "  You 
make  me  feel  like  the  dickens.  I  declare  you  do !  " 
flourishing  his  handkerchief  with  a  tearful  laugh. 

"  I'm  glad  the  old  friendly  feeling  is  restored,",  said 
Syd,  heartily. 

"  And  restored  for  good  this  time,  I  hope,"  Ward 
replied,  leaning  on  his  friend's  arm  in  the  old  dependent 
way.  "  You're  going  to  have  me  on  your  hands  yet 
as  a  relative,  perhaps,  though  you  objected  to  me  once." 

"  No.     I  always  recommended  you." 

"  I  want  you  to  recommend  me  to  —  somebody  else 
—  to  more  purpose." 

"  I  will  with  all  my  heart,  Ward ;  but  —  somebody 
else  has  her  head  so  full  of  music  and  a  '  career '  at 
present  that  I  fear  it  will  be  useless." 

"  Her  ambition  now  is  to  go  to  New  York  to  have 
her  voice  cultivated,  I  hear,"  said  Ward. 

"  Yes." 

"  I  think  I  can  settle  that,"  Ward  remarked,  con- 
fidently. 

Syd  was  silent. 

"  I  think  Jean  will  give  up  her  career  when  she 


CONCLUSION.  431 

finds  that  I  am  determined  to  become  a  relative  of 
yours,"  Ward  added. 

Again  Syd  was  silent.  When  he  looked  at  Jean, 
who  had  developed  into  noble  and  self-reliant  woman- 
hood, he  doubted  much  if  Ward  would  ever  become 
a  relative  of  his. 

Yet  Mr.  Markley  was  married  again,  and  Jennie 
seemed  perfectly  indifferent  to  all  admirers  save  one! 

THE  END. 


A     000  443  834     7 


